


Come In From The Cold

by thelilacfield



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 63,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Raft has been breached. The Avengers remaining in the compound might know nothing, or might be lying. Four prisoners have disappeared from all radars, assisted by three fugitives. Desperation is the currency of the times. And desperation can drive people to take a man who is good at heart and make him into a tool to hunt down the rogue Avengers - no matter the cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. changing the game

**A/N:** This AU has been in my head for a long time, but I've only just gotten around to beginning to tell this story that's been building. I know that it's a little outside of the box, but I'm particularly excited about this one! I hope this lovely fandom enjoys it!

* * *

Red lights the corridors up in eerie definition, stretching dark shadows across the walls, and the alarm continues to wail. Prisoners hammer at the walls of their cells, faces twisted in anger, and he swallows thickly, mouth dry with fear. "Peterson!" Edwards shouts, and he stands to attention, trying to harden his expression and hide his shaking hands. "Proceed into the east wing with Michaels, Thomas and Lance."

He nods, and Lance takes the lead, her gun poised to shoot, her every move cautious. Michaels is slows, his gaze flickering in every direction, Thomas murmurs reassurances to herself, and he brings up the rear, watching their backs.

The dull sound of a punch, and he wheels around to see Thomas crumpled on the ground. Despite Lance's hushed warning, Michaels fires, and they hear the sound of the bullet hitting a wall a second before a shadow crosses their path and Michaels is down. A glimpse of blue in the red light, and Lance crashes against the wall before hitting the floor. He clutches at his gun, shaking, terrified, and turns when he hears a sound behind him.

"Sorry about this," a familiar, feminine voice says, and he sees only a glimpse of a pale face before he's knocked out.

* * *

Alone in the common area, Stark and Rhodes shut away together in the training rooms downstairs, trying to find a way for Rhodes to continue his heroics the way he did before, Vision barely hears the soothing noise of the shopping channel, turning a chess piece over and over in his hands.

_Red winds around Wanda's black knight, lifting it across the squares of the board, and Vision smiles softly at her, the satisfaction evident in her eyes. Leaning over, he moves his piece and says, "Checkmate."_

" _Vizh!" Wanda exclaims, a fond kind of anger to her voice. "I thought you were going to start letting me win!"_

" _Your talents lie elsewhere, Ms. Maximoff," he says, and she smiles at him, so sweetly. "Perhaps another round? It did take me sixteen moves to defeat you this time. It was two when we began this routine."_

_She rolls her eyes, but there's fondness in the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. They're alone in the compound, with Rogers, Romanoff and Wilson following a lead on Rumlow and Rhodes supervising Stark in the aftermath of his break-up with Ms. Potts. "I actually think I should start dinner," she says, standing up, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "Although there might not be much in the fridge."_

" _We could order a pizza?" he suggests, and she grins, leaning over to drop a kiss on his cheek. She's only recently begun doing it, but he looks forward to it each day._

" _I like the way you think," she says, and moves away to retrieve her laptop._

So absorbed in memories, he starts when the theme of the news suddenly interrupts the soft voice of the hostess on the shopping channel, the stern voice of a newsreader drawing his attention to the screen. "We have just been informed of a breach at the maximum security ocean prison known as the Raft. Four prisoners have escaped - former Avengers Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff and Sam Wilson, with famous Vista Corp thief Scott Lang, fugitives from the law of one hundred and seventeen countries following the ratification of the Sokovia Accords. Appeals have been sent to all military operations to begin the hunt for the fugitives, following on the heels of appeals to search for former Avengers Captain Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, and James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier himself."

A chess piece snaps in Vision's hand.

* * *

Doctor Mamadou's hands are gentle as he finishes wrapping gauze over the shallow wound crossing Natasha's hip, inflicted by a guard in the Raft. He smiles gently when he's done, graciously helping her to her feet, and moves to Sam, tutting at the yellowing bruise over his eye.

Rolling her shirt back down, hiding her wounds, she crosses to stand with T'Challa at the balcony overlooking his country, mist rising from the dark leaves of the jungle, guards all in black patrolling the palace perimeter. "So what happens now?" she asks softly, not wanting to startle him.

"I do not know, Ms. Romanoff," he says, a darkness in his eyes. He looks back at the medical suite, the team being attended to, and adds, "But, for now, you are all under my protection. The US government cannot touch you here."

"We can't thank you enough, King T'Challa," she says, and he appears to start a little at the title, perhaps still getting used to it after his father's death. It's an adjustment to change, wearing a new mantle - she remembers the days when she was changing herself from the Black Widow of the Red Room to Agent Romanoff of SHIELD.

"We are all victims of circumstance, Ms. Romanoff," he says softly. "Your allies did not deserve to be treated as they were in that prison."

"Damn right we didn't," comes Clint's voice as he joins them, clothed all in white, making the dark bruises and crimson cuts stand out even brighter on his skin. "Thanks for giving Cap and Tasha the tools to come for us, Your Highness."

"Perhaps it is time the world came to a greater understanding of the technology we have been working on in Wakanda," T'Challa says. "There is an advantage to a country developing its own technology outside of the world's race to be greater."

"What happens to the people we left behind?" Clint asks, addressing Natasha. "You've gotta know, Tasha. Signing the Accords and everything, you must've read them first."

"The US government will profile enhanced individuals," she explains. "Psych evaluations, blood and tissue samples, analysis of any suits they may use and chronicling of all abilities."

"Glad I escaped that," Clint comments. "Got enough of all that when I joined SHIELD." And, despite the length of the day, the escape from the Raft, the long flight to Wakanda, Natasha laughs.

* * *

Returning from a psychological evaluation with Ross' people, moodily rubbing at the inside of his arm where his blood was drawn, Rhodey sees Tony sitting at his desk, reading a briefing, the phone next to him blinking with a call on hold. "You gonna get that?" he asks.

"Nope," Tony replies simply, popping the **p** , almost happy. "It's Ross. Calling to complain about the breach at the Raft again. I want to see how long he'll stay on the line before giving up."

"You're such a shit, Tony," Rhodey says, and Tony grins at him. "You not even gonna tell him your speculation?"

"I might, if I was happy about him shutting up good heroes in the Raft," Tony says, turning a page with an ostentatious flick. "This way has a lot less red tape and no headache for me." Gaze turning up to Rhodey, he closes the briefing and asks, "How was the psych eval?"

"Nothing I haven't been asked before," Rhodey answers, pushing his wheelchair forward to glance at the briefing. A public relations package, from Maria. To try and begin to fix their completely shattered image. "They took my blood too. Seems a bit overboard when most of us don't have genetic powers."

"Ross wants a full profile on all enhanced individuals," Tony says, the line he's been spun. "We're the least interesting of what's out there. Too bad Wanda's gone dark, she would've been a fascinating prospect for all those scientists."

"They still have Vision to take in," Rhodey points out, peering around the doorway to see their teammate in his familiar position on the couch, toying with the chess pieces. "What about the Spiderling?"

"He's a minor, so there are more loopholes," Tony says, and Rhodey shakes his head gently at the knowledge that Tony brought a sixteen year old into their crazy world. "Ross has taken my profile and yours, so Vision is next. After that, who knows. T'Challa managed extradition and has gone back to Wakanda, and Nat's gone dark. I don't know what happens next."

* * *

Stars are brighter over Wakanda, gleaming silver against the black, a medal pinned to the chest of a soldier clothed in darkness. A cool breeze brings the thick scents of the jungle to the steps of the palace, and Wanda shivers slightly as the wind whispers over the cuts on her arms, blowing her hair against the bruises circling her neck.

A footstep behind her has her turning fast enough to send a jolt of pain through her side, pulling at her bruised ribs, but Steve's familiar soothing smile is reassuring as he sits down next to her. He's still wearing the clothes he broke them from the Raft in, barely a mark on them, and clasps his hands together. "You should sleep," he says softly.

"I had more than enough sleep under sedation in prison," she snaps, and he withdraws his words, silent next to her, a presence enough to keep her from growing frightened. "The stars are beautiful here."

"They are," Steve says softly, and she glances sideways at him to see his gaze on her, so filled with concern. "Do you know any of the constellations?"

Looking up at the skies again, she points and explains, "That's Orion's belt. He was a hunter in Greek mythology, the son of Poseidon and the queen of the Amazons. He became the greatest hunter in the world, but his pride brought him down. He was killed by a small scorpion in response to his boasting, and the goddess Artemis placed him in the stars."

"How do you know that?" Steve asks, and she smiles softly to herself at the memories the question brings rushing to the surface.

"When I can't sleep, I go onto the roof of the compound and look at the stars," she explains, toying with a loose thread on the white clothes given to them to replace their prison uniforms. "When Vizh noticed, he read books on astrology and the constellations so he could keep me company and tell me the legends behind the constellations. I'd fall asleep there sometimes, with him. He always carried me back to bed." She blinks, and a silent tear falls to land on the back of her hand.

"You miss him," Steve says gently, and she nods, worried that if she starts to speak only sobs will come out. "I'm so sorry, Wanda. This whole thing with the Accords has divided us all."

Anger flares, easier to show than sadness, and she snaps, " _Really_? Divided us all? You have Sam and Bucky and Natasha here, with you. You can see them and talk to them and touch them. You have no idea how I feel!" Getting to her feet fast enough that it hurts, she runs from Steve's gentle sympathy and kind eyes, locking herself in the room T'Challa gave her and letting the memories of Vision flood through her mind until she can't do anything but let the tears spill over.

* * *

Tension threads thickly through the air in the stiflingly hot office, and Hunter wishes he could subtly fan himself with the thick briefing in his lap as his gaze follows Ross' pacing, his knuckles white on the phone pressed against his ear. Shifting Stark's psych evaluation into better place, letting his eyes roam over the familiar black text, he starts when Ross slams the phone back into its cradle, barely containing his fury.

"Wouldn't tell me anything," he spits, eyes blazing. "Swears up and down he didn't know about the Raft break-in and has no idea where the fugitives have escaped to. He's lying to me, that fucker."

"Sir, with all due respect, Stark has been a dead end from the start," Hunter says, knowing that now is the time to be bold, to help the countries of the world shape heroes to their liking. "He has a soft spot when it comes to the Avengers. He's protecting them. The only way to find the fugitives is under our own steam. I can contact SHIELD-"

"Absolutely not," Ross snaps, and Hunter leans back in his chair. "Fury never respected me, no one in that agency is any better. They unleashed the Avengers on the world, they will not be the ones to take them out."

"We're not talking about taking them out, sir, only bringing them in," Hunter says, but the words dry in his throat at the look on Ross' face. "Aren't we?"

"These people are extremely dangerous, and have broken out of one of the highest security prisons in the world, vanished to God knows where and somehow done all of that under the watch of the entire world," Ross says broodingly. "They cannot be allowed to continue roaming free. If it comes to it, all militaries are under orders to use lethal force in order to capture. If any of them are killed in the crossfire, it won't be a bad thing."

"Sir, with all due respect, sending military forces without any enhanced persons on their side against the former Avengers is risking a number of lives we can't afford to lose," Hunter says, and there's something foreboding in the curl of Ross' smile.

"We will have our own soldier, a single force to defeat all of the fugitives and end the changing of our world," he says darkly, and a trickle of cold fear slips down Hunter's spine. "Not Rhodes. Certainly not Stark. Both of them are human, and can be manipulated by their connections to the fugitives. There's only one option I can see that will place us on top."

He sets a new file in front of Hunter, slimmer than those they have on Stark and Rhodes, and Hunter swallows thickly as he opens the first page and sees the plan laid out before him.

* * *

Absorbed in another file delivered from Maria with a hint of a smirk, further polite and positively affirming answers to the questions the media keeps asking, Tony looks up when FRIDAY coolly states, "Secretary Ross is at the gates, boss."

"Let him in," Tony says, and the harsh buzzer of the gates being opened rings from the security office. Closing the file and sliding it into a drawer, locking it firmly away - trust is a luxury he can't afford to give many people in times like these - he stands and brushes himself down, affecting a charming demeanour before going to greet Ross, flanked by two guards with guns gleaming threateningly at their hips. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Secretary?"

"We're just here to collect your teammate for psychological evaluation, Stark," Ross says, but there's a quality to his words that sets Tony's teeth on edge, though he can't quite name it. "Would you be so kind as to find him?"

With a nod, Tony darts downstairs to the training room, finding Vision alone between the white walls, looking strangely small destroying the flickering blue holograms without anyone at his side. Watching him for a moment. Tony notices that he doesn't use the gem in the fight, only his superhuman strength and speed, and feels yet another twinge of regret over everything that happened, and is still happening. "Vision," he calls, and his teammate appears to start at his voice, cape whipping around him as he turns. "Secretary Ross is here. It's your turn for the psych eval."

Vision's uniform and cape morph easily into his usual sweater and slacks combination, and he brushes past Tony on the stairs, knocking him back into the wall. Brooding once again over the change in their synthezoid, Tony follows just in time to see the guards both take Vision by the shoulders and steer him outside. "Naturally, Stark, this evaluation will take longer than yours or Rhodes'," Ross says, and Tony nods, teeth gritted against what he wishes he could say. "Expect him back within thirty-six hours. Then we move on to tracking down the fugitives."

"Of course, Secretary," he says, hoping he sounds respectful and not quietly angry. "I'll do everything I can to help you find them." Perhaps he imagines the flicker of fury in Ross' eyes, a split-second change before he turns and leaves the compound.

After the car has driven away, leaving a bad taste in Tony's mouth, Rhodey emerges from his room, eyeing the door suspiciously. "I don't like this," he says immediately. "Ross didn't bring guards to collect either of us. He didn't even come himself."

"We're both powered by suits, I guess he came because Vision's so different," Tony says, hearing the hollowness behind his bracing tone. "You know no one really gets him. Not even us."

Though Rhodey smoothly turns his wheelchair and moves away, towards the gently humming coffee machine, Tony distinctly hears him murmur, "Wanda does."

* * *

Legs hanging over the edge of the roof, damp with the mist rising from the trees circling the palace as thickly as concrete walls, Sam takes another piece of melon from the plate between him and Scott. Below them, Steve is shut in the medical suite with Bucky, and Natasha is closeted with T'Challa trying to follow the news of the outside world, but up here they're sitting in companionable silence, the warm breeze whispering gently over their skin.

"So," Scott says around a mouthful of fruit, wiping his sticky hands on his thighs, "what's the whole team dynamic thing you guys have going on? Why'd the Widow come back to help?"

"She got herself into trouble too, had to go dark," Sam explains. "Steve went looking for her when they got back from Siberia, found her hiding out in a safe house in New Jersey. Her and Steve are really close, it's not surprising she came along with him. And it's good that we have someone T'Challa saw sign the Accords and offer their support with us."

"Right," Scott says, and falls silent for a moment. "So what about the rest of the team? What's the whole thing with Cap and Barnes?"

"You really want profiles of our entire team?" Sam asks wearily, and Scott's eager nod has him sighing and readjusting his position, preparing his usual speech. "So Steve and Bucky are best friends since childhood, but up until two years ago Steve thought he died in 1945. Then we found out he was alive but under HYDRA brainwashing, but he saved Steve's life so we started looking for him. I did a lot of the leg work while Steve and Nat were avenging, but we never managed to find him. Then all this happened, and it's good that we have him with us even if he does want to stay in cryo." Taking a moment to watch Scott taking in the entire story, the flickering in his eyes as he tries to process it all, he continues, "As for the rest, Clint was one of the founding Avengers and an assassin and spy for SHIELD until it fell two years ago. Now he's a stay-at-home dad, but you can always call on him in a crisis and he'll come through. Nat was Clint's partner in their SHIELD days, and she's still one of the most feared people in the intelligence community. Don't piss her off. Wanda is great, she joined the Avengers with me last year. Her brother died when we were fighting Ultron in Sokovia, so she's been fighting with us ever since, trying to make up for bad things they both did working for HYDRA. And I'm here to fight the good fight and protect everyone." Taking a breath, he asks, "And you?"

"Well, I got out of prison after doing three years for burglary, couldn't see my daughter, tried to rob a place some buddies of mine earmarked as a score and ended up finding the Ant Man suit," Scott explains, and Sam can't help but smile. It's definitely not the strangest origin story he's heard. "Hank Pym trained me up using it, and things were going pretty well for me when Clint showed up at my door and asked if I wanted to come help out Captain America. I didn't expect to have to fight Stark's team."

"None of us did," Sam says darkly. "We were supposed to all go to Siberia. We could've stopped the assassins. Tony threw a bit of a spanner in the works. At least we've got Nat and T'Challa standing with us now."

"What'll happen to the other four?" Scott asks, and Sam shrugs helplessly. "Stark and Rhodes and the spider guy and the robot? Will they be okay?"

"Never let Wanda hear you call Vision a robot," Sam says ruefully, and Scott winces. "I don't know. I think for now we don't have time to worry about them. Nat and T'Challa are trying to figure out what's going on. We've gotta focus on healing and starting to train again."

* * *

The doctors in the dimly-lit facility wear black rather than white, eyes cast down as they move through the room, Secretary Ross poised at the other side of a window set into the north wall, face set and eyes hard. Vision looks up at one doctor as cuffs are snapped tightly into place around his wrists, asking, "Is all of this entirely necessary?"

"Just precautions," one of the doctors, seemingly the leader, answers. Vision notes the way his jacket covers the distinct shape of a gun at his hip, and begins to feel the first stirrings of doubt. "The world has to see that we take enhanced threats seriously."

Secretary Ross' voice is jarring through the speaker system, electronic humming filling the room, reminiscent of the arrows Barton used when he helped Wanda to leave the compound. "We first have to ask you to describe your powers," he says, voice gruff and authoritative. "My deputy will be typing everything you tell us, so be thorough. And speak slowly - I'm sure you have a lot to cover."

The scratching of pens and the click of a keyboard presents a low beat with every word Vision says, describing everything he knows of his own powers, chronicled over the last year by an astounded Dr. Cho, by his confused teammates, by a disbelieving Agent Hill. He can't fail to notice that Ross' eyebrows creep closer to his hairline with every new ability he describes - durability, density manipulation, flight, energy blasts - or that there's something growing behind his eyes that he can't quite describe, but feels dangerous.

"That's quite the list," Ross comments when they're finally done, and the people surrounding Vision are murmuring to each other, exchanging long glances. "But we also must address your involvement in the fiasco at Leipzig. It was your abilities which led to Colonel Rhodes' potentially career-ending injuries, wasn't it?" Guilt surging up in his chest once again, uncomfortably hot and gnawing, Vision nods silently. "What led to that? A being of your...abilities, we would not expect you to make a mistake."

He has to be honest with the Secretary of State, even though the whole truth has remained sealed in his mind since the battle, despite the questions from Stark and the few probing looks from Romanoff before she disappeared. "I became distracted," he says, and Ross frowns. "My aim suffered because of this, and Wilson was able to avoid my attack. Unfortunately Colonel Rhodes took the blast instead."

"What could possibly distract an android enough to cause such a terrible accident?" Ross asks, and there's a brief twinge of anger in Vision's chest at the word he uses, one that his teammates have long since stopped using - he always suspected Wanda had told them to change their ways, but she never confirmed the fact beyond the occasional sweet secretive smile.

"An unfamiliar feeling, Secretary," he explains, and Ross leans forward against the window, a sudden eagerness in his body language. "An...affection for a former teammate. It will not be a problem again." Somewhere in his deepest mind, he knows this is a lie.

"Of course not," Ross says, and gives a nod to someone standing behind Vision. An elaborate metal machine is lowered over him, cuffs snapped around his ankles and those on his wrists tightened, and a cold sense of dread falls over him. "This is just an analysis of your body's material. It won't take long."

His eyes are bright with triumph, the corner of his mouth curls in a smirk, and Vision almost makes the split-second decision to phase through the restraints and run.

A doctor - or perhaps not a doctor, dressed all in black - with cold eyes and a shark-like smile flicks a switch.

The pain is unimaginable.

* * *

Having only just fallen into a restless sleep after an evening in the medical suite, watching Bucky sleep beneath the ice, Steve is awoken suddenly by a terrible unearthly screaming, echoing through the palace. Bolting out of bed, he jerks his door open and nearly collides with Clint, eyes wild with panic.

"That's Wanda," he says, voice low and hoarse, and they both sprint down the corridor, Sam emerging from his room with a carefully set face and following. The door to her bedroom is locked, and Steve slams full force into it, putting all of his weight behind the blow. With a silent apology to T'Challa for destroying his palace, he hits the door once more and it caves in.

Wanda is tossing in her bed, still screaming, and they both run to her side, Sam turning on his heel and running for the medical suite. Clint calls her name over and over again, but she doesn't appear to hear them. Steve barely leaps out of the way when a jet of scarlet shoots from her hand, smashing a vase on a shelf behind him into nothing but dust. "We have to wake her," he says, and Clint's frantic eyes look back at him in the gloom filled with fear.

"What the hell is going on?" comes Scott's voice, the question coming through a yawn, and as Steve looks back at him the colour drains from his face. "Crap, what's wrong with her?"

"I think it's a nightmare," Steve says, trying to be bracing, to give the impression that he knows what's going on and can help, that he has the answers. "Can you help hold her down?" Scott nods, teeth gritted, and carefully takes Wanda's arm, pressing it as gently as possible into the bed.

"Watch out!" Clint shouts, and dives to the floor as another wave of scarlet bursts from Wanda's writhing body, sending a chair flying across the room and smashing against a wall. Every loose object in the room begins to rise, spinning on the wave of power, and Steve ducks to avoid being hit by anything, mind working frantically.

Gunshots draw a yelp from Scott and have Steve wheeling around. Natasha stands in the doorway, pistol smoking in her hand, and a distinct hole in the ceiling above her. Wanda's eyes finally fly open, her thrashing calming, and everything in the air clatters to the ground. Slowly standing up, caution in his every moment, Clint brushes himself down and snaps, "Jesus Christ, Tasha, you scared the shit out of me!"

"It worked, didn't it?" Natasha retorts sharply, slotting the gun neatly back into the holster wrapped around her thigh. "T'Challa will understand the hole in his ceiling as much as he'll understand the busted door."

Between them, all four of them breathing heavily in the aftermath of the panic, Wanda sits in silence for a moment, so frighteningly still, pale as a statue. Then she dissolves into sudden tears, and Clint is instantly at her side, and she falls against him and sobs desperately into his chest, loud, splintered sobs that have her entire body heaving and have their hearts quietly breaking for her. Looking around the room, cracks in the walls and the ornaments all broken, Steve gently suggests, "Let's all go to the front room and have something to eat."

Clint nods, and unhesitatingly lifts Wanda from the bed, carrying her into the common area and setting her gently down on the couch. She's shivering so violently that Scott rushes to light the fire, the cheerful crackling making the place feel a little more homely. Natasha gets the lights, illuminating drawn, sleepy faces and the tear tracks glittering silver on Wanda's cheeks. Sam returns from the medical suite with a pile of blankets under one arm, and Steve drapes one over Wanda, tucking it carefully around her as if she's a child.

They stay quiet while she slowly calms herself, sipping at steaming mugs of tea and watching her. At long last, Natasha adjusts her position to lean closer to her, and gently asks, "What were you dreaming about that got you so upset?"

"I don't know," Wanda answers weakly, voice thick with tears, fingers clutching tightly at the edges of the blanket. "There was so much pain. It had hold of me. It wouldn't let me go. Someone was smiling, at the edges of the pain, someone was laughing. They were happy." She blinks and raises a shaking hand to brush another tear away. "The worst part was that it felt so _real_."

"It was just a dream," Steve says automatically, but the words ring hollow in the silence, and he exchanges a look of fear with Natasha. He can't help the twinge of worry, and thinks once again on the phone hidden in the depths of his nightstand. Perhaps he'll have to contact the compound in the morning.

* * *

The world swirls suddenly into sharp focus, distinct shapes of people and cabinets in the dim light of the bunker, and the cuffs click tighter. A shadow stoops down, grey hair and steely eyes, and the gruff voice says, "Can you hear me, Vision?"

"Yes." A name, in that gruff tone, brings a twinge of memory to the surface. Dark hair, silvery laugh, gentle hands. But it slips away like water through cupped fingers, his focus returning to the bunker.

"I'm Thaddeus Ross, the US Secretary of State," comes the explanation, and Vision stares straight into the hard eyes, unmoving in the metal chair. "I have been monitoring you in this facility after you sustained traumatic injuries during a clash with criminals who have escaped from prison. How do you feel?"

He ponders on the question for a moment, glancing down at himself. "Strong," he answers after a long silence, and Secretary Ross smiles in quiet satisfaction.

"Excellent," he says. "I have a job I need you to finish for me. You see, Vision, these prisoners are not like most people. They are dangerous and brash and will do anything to evade law enforcement. They know that they've done wrong, but they think they're right. That makes them dangerous. They will kill my men if they are given the chance. I can't afford to give them that chance. But you...you are stronger than any of them."

"Who exactly are you looking for, Secretary?" Vision asks, and Ross bows his head gently.

"Come with me," he says, and releases the cuffs binding Vision's wrists and ankles, allowing him to stand and follow Ross into a smaller room, a screen set up against one wall, flickering with static. "These are the criminals you are hunting for."

A man appears on the screen, blue eyes shining beneath a blue helmet. He looks up and sees the camera, and his arms moves fast enough to blur. A moment later, the picture turns black. "Steve Rogers," Ross says, distracting Vision from the memories crawling through his mind, shadowy and vague. "Alias Captain America."

Another man, dark hair hanging lank around his face, eyes dead. Silver hand wrapped securely around a shotgun. A crack of a bullet, and a scream. "James Buchanan Barnes. Alias the Winter Soldier." And yet another, metal wings extending from his shoulders. "Sam Wilson, alias the Falcon." A man crouches on a rooftop, pulling the string of a bow taught, an arrow flying out of the shot. "Clint Barton, alias Hawkeye." The screen appears to be empty, then a man appears from nowhere in a suit of red and black. "Scott Lang, alias Ant Man." A woman this time, red hair flying, taking down five guards surrounding her seemingly with little to no effort. "Natasha Romanoff, alias Black Widow."

Vision can't help the forward lean at the last shot, a woman who appears younger than any of the other criminals, hands encased in swirling red. "Wanda Maximoff, alias the Scarlet Witch," Ross says, a different quality to his voice. "They are all criminals. Seven in total. They have committed atrocities against the people of America, and other nations. Now they're on the run, somehow evading our best efforts to find them. You are our new soldier."

The screen turns black, the image of the young woman vanishing, and Vision finds that her eyes are seared into his mind, no matter how hard he blinks against the image. "So you want me to find them, sir?"

"Find them, and bring them in," Ross says. "They are all too dangerous to be left in the presence of civilians. We need them where we can keep an eye on them."

"You say they were able to escape from your prison?" Vision asks, and Ross grits his teeth and nods. "They will fight. What should I do if they will not cooperate?"

"Take them out," Ross says coldly. And, after a long moment of hesitation, Vision nods, understanding his mission, repeating the names of the criminals in the back of his mind. Rogers. Barnes. Wilson. Barton. Lang. Romanoff. Maximoff.

The criminals he must find and bring to Ross, to make sure that they stay in prison for the rest of their lives and no longer pose a threat to the humanity he knows the value of.

They will cooperate, or they will die.


	2. everything's made to be broken

**A/N:** Thank you so much to everyone who left comments and kudos on the first chapter, it really encourages me to keep writing! Glad to see people are intrigued by this story, and I apologise for all of the upcoming angst. Hope you lovelies all enjoy this step of the journey!

* * *

Dawn streaks the sky pale blue, and Tony paces the compound, tracking the neutral colours and varying decorations from the entryway to the balcony overlooking the running track. The hangar is eerily quiet, the cars polished to their highest shine, their single quinjet a silent mass of sleek black at its centre. Rhodey is asleep, after they spent half the night in the lab reconfiguring his prosthetics, but worry for the one teammate he has left kept Tony tossing until the light began to creep into his room.

Checking his email again, there's no update from Peter on his return to high school life after Germany. He promised a weekly update. Teenagers get busy, get distracted, but Tony can't help but worry about him. Nothing new from Maria, nor from Fury. He's still getting a little of the silent treatment from their former boss, who he's heard has a powerful distrust of Ross and, after all, needs to continue to maintain the guise that he died two years ago. Natasha hasn't gotten in touch, not that he expected it after their barbed last encounter and her silent disappearance from the compound. Bruce has ignored his last ten messages, after briefly and forcefully telling him he wanted to stay out of any conflicts. The Avengers really are torn apart.

On edge for the sound of an engine outside, counting every minute of thirty-six hours - it's been thirty-five hours and twenty-six minutes since Ross disappeared with Vision and left a chill of foreboding in the air - he steels himself and, for the first time since returning to the compound, decides to investigate the rooms of the former Avengers now on the run. Not Steve's - that wound is still red and raw.

Sam's room is neat, the bed made from whenever he left, not knowing it was for the last time. There's a corkboard on one wall, every inch of it papered with photos of happier times. Very few of his belongings are disturbed - he took nothing with him, ornaments beginning to gather dust. By contrast, Natasha's room next door is ransacked, as much as she could carry gone with her on the run. Her cache of smaller weapons is empty, those highly polished knives she used to spend hours sharpening all in her pack. Next in the line, Wanda's room is as undisturbed as Sam's, an entire life left behind. But her belongings are still polished and carefully dusted, kept as she left them for her hypothetical return.

Fifteen minutes have passed, and not a sound, the sky growing brighter and shadows fading as night melts into day. There are sounds of shifting from Rhodey's room, of life, but Tony tamps down the urge to rush in and help, instead opening the door to Vision's room and pausing at the emptiness. Of course, he's aware by now that Vision doesn't sleep, but the lack of a bed is still somehow surprising. Instead, an entire wall is occupied by a bookcase, spilling over with encyclopaedias and atlases and history books and all of the great literature of the world. A piano that Tony doesn't remember agreeing to pay for stands proudly at the centre of the room, a piece of music open, scratches of black that don't make any sense to him.

"You know they say that looking in someone's bedroom is like reading their mind," Rhodey chastises from the doorway, and Tony glances back and grins at him. Rolling forward, Rhodey picks up an abandoned copy of the sixth _Harry Potter_ book from the table and smiles faintly. "I used to hear him reading to Wanda late at night. They were catching up on childhood together."

"What was going on between them, Rhodey?" Tony asks, and Rhodey shrugs. Reaching over to close the music book, Tony's fingers brush against glossy paper and he withdraws a picture from between the pages, his fingerprints smudging over the edges. It's a professional shot from the Stark Industries gala at Christmas, and the longer he looks the more the memory surfaces, between Pepper's heartbroken eyes engraved forever in his mind and the whispered argument as they danced for the assembled press.

In the photograph, Vision almost cradles Wanda as they dance, looking into each other's eyes. It's clear the world around them could disappear and neither of them would notice, completely absorbed in each other. Holding it out, he watches Rhodey's eyebrows rise when he sees it, and he lets out a low whistle. "I've never seen this before," he says, examining it more closely. "I can't believe Sam always insisting they were just friends."

Before Tony can reply, FRIDAY announces, "Car at the gates, boss," and he hastily shoves the photograph back between the pages of the music book and races to the door. Ross walks in, impeccably dressed despite the early hour, and relief surges through Tony when he sees Vision looks like himself, sweater and slacks in place.

"Everything alright, Vizh?" he asks, making an effort to sound light and unaffected, not to search Vision's impassive face for cues.

"My name is Vision, Mr. Stark," he says, voice hard and chilling behind the politeness, and Tony snaps his mouth shut with a nod.

"Your teammate has been very helpful, Stark," Ross says, with a smile that has Tony wishing he would get angry again, sending a chill through some frightened corner of his mind. "We have all we need. My team will be in touch about beginning to look for the fugitives."

"Of course, Secretary," he says, and watches Ross leave. Vision looks after him for just a moment too long, then turns away and disappears down the stairs to the training room.

"Something's wrong," Rhodey says, and Tony turns to him, elbows propped on his immobile knees and worry in the furrow of his brow. "Vision likes the nickname. Ever since Wanda started using it he's asked us to use it. He doesn't want to be treated any differently just because he's not traditionally human. I don't like this."

"I know we're in strange times here, and we're all feeling paranoid, but it's fine," Tony says, bracing. "We just have to keep an eye on him."

And for the first time since they returned to the compound after Rhodey was finally released from the hospital, the one friend Tony has left glares at him, fire in his eyes, and turns his wheelchair with astonishing speed. And, over his shoulder as he rushes back down the corridor to his room, he snarls, "You're an idiot to blindly trust Ross, Tony."

* * *

The mists of the jungle are cold on Wanda's skin, her hair hanging lank over her shoulders in the damp air. She walks aimlessly, following the whims of her feet in her muddy shoes, the palace faded to a speck behind her. The walls seem to move in on her, crushing her into panic and terrible nightmares, and the presence of her teammates, though friendly and concerned, only makes it worse. Steve is so worried for her, the weight of it cloying, and she can't answer the same questions again, can't unlock the barrier within her own mind and let the darkness spill out in her words.

Winds rustles the dark leaves that arc over her head, snatching at her skirt, and she shivers slightly, pulling Sam's too-big sweater tighter around her. An old, frayed thing, it smells like home, the compound in the morning, coffee and eggs and those air fresheners Steve insisted on buying. She misses it more than she ever thought she would, the first place she belonged since she was ten years old, where she was with friends and knew where her next meal was coming from and where she would sleep that night.

The palace is not familiar, and though T'Challa has graciously welcomed them into the country she can't shake the feeling that everyone looks at her with loathing, knowing she is the reason their countrymen were killed in Lagos. Ceilings soar too high, rooms stretch out with no one to fill them, and every sound echoes for minutes. There's nowhere to hide away, with their close quarters and their new circumstances. She wears a new mantle now - criminal, fugitive, murderer. Not a hero. Not an Avenger. Her new family split apart, the people changed.

Steve carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, burdening himself with problem after problem, drowning in the past and how it reconciles with the present. Natasha is floating loose, a boat unmoored from the shore, trying to hide her sadness by throwing herself back into the fray. Sam is burdened with guilt and with his first-time experience of imprisonment, a new darkness to his eyes and his face still scarred with cuts and bruises. Rhodes remains at the compound, a part of the new world order, his life changed by his injury in Germany, an injury they all carry a measure of guilt for. And Vision isn't at her side for the first time in a year, and she feels the cold without him.

"You know, you shouldn't wander in the jungle alone," Natasha says, and Wanda looks up to see her perched in a tree, leg swinging from the branch she's comfortably sitting on, watching her with a soft smile.

"I needed to clear my head," Wanda says, and levitates herself to Natasha's perch, sitting next to her in the dark canopy, the real world seeming so far away, the only sound around them the chittering of wildlife hiding in the greenery.

"You and me both," Natasha says with a small smile. "Everything's changed so fast, there hasn't been any time to process it. I miss our old life. Everything we built." She glances down at the backs of her hands, her chipped nail polish, and says, "I thought we were a good team. But when push came to shove, we fell apart so easily."

"Issues have been building for a long time, I saw as much when I looked into your minds during the Ultron crisis," Wanda says gently, and Natasha glances away from her. "The Accords only widened existing cracks. Families fight, Nat."

"I don't know if we'll ever be back together," Natasha says, sounding young and afraid, tucking her knees up against her chest and resting her chin there, a child hiding from the cruelties of reality. "Certainly not the way it was before. It's never going to be the same."

The mere thought brings the sting of advancing tears at the back of Wanda's throat, and she shakes her head frantically, instinctively brushing her thumb against the stone of the ring she wears on her left hand. "I want it to be the same," she says, and Natasha's gaze sweeps over her. "I don't want to think that I've lost him."

"Some connections are never broken," Natasha says, and slides an arm around her. With a long sigh, Wanda leans her head on Natasha's shoulder, and they stay pressed together as the sky darkens and rain begins to patter gently on the leaves.

* * *

"There," Doctor Mamadou says warmly, taping the final bandage with a flourish and stepping away from Scott in the straight-backed chair. Straightening his arm out with a slight wince, he nods politely at the doctor and leaves the medical suite, exchanging a smile with Steve in his unending vigil at the side of the cryogenic tube where Bucky sleeps on.

Wandering into their small kitchen, he finds Clint and Sam bent over a radio, listening intently to a broadcast. "What's going on?" he asks softly, and Sam beckons him over, bringing him into their small circle and turning the volume up another notch.

"Reports have reached world leaders this morning from US Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross, pertaining to the manhunt for world-famous fugitives Captain Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, James Buchanan Barnes, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff and Scott Lang," the reporter is saying, and Scott can't help rolling his eyes, wondering how many news bulletins he's heard his name on over the years. "Ross has assured leaders that he is working closely with Tony Stark in attempts to track down the former Avengers-"

"Lies," Scott interjects. "I was never an Avenger."

"-and has also informed the world that the US has found a foolproof method of bringing the fugitives in once they are found, reassuring all those frightened of these criminals that they will all be back behind bars soon enough."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Clint scoffs, switching the radio off and swinging himself up onto a counter, flicking the coffee machine on. "Just scare tactics and PR work for the government. Of course they're not going to tell anyone they don't know where we are and Steve and Natasha alone knocked out every single guard in the Raft."

"They could know where we are," Scott muses. "Seven people the whole world is looking for don't just vanish unless someone is protecting them. And Steve did contact Stark."

Sam nods darkly, and says, "Tony Stark is many things, but stupid isn't one of them. He'll have figured out where we are. But, clearly he hasn't told Ross, or they'd be knocking the door down and grabbing us. Stark's good for something."

"Will he tell?" Scott asks, and Sam smiles slightly, the merest hint of a smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

"If he hasn't told by now, he won't," he says. "If things were really bad back in the real world, he'd call."

"You really believe that?" Clint asks, arching an eyebrow over his mug, and Sam simply nods.

"We may have fallen out in a pretty spectacular fashion, but I think if military were being sent here to kill us Tony would at least call," he says and Scott lets the words fade into him, hoping that they're true and he won't wake up tomorrow with a gun pressed to his temple.

* * *

Straightening one of the few ornaments in Wanda's room not broken after the screaming nightmares that woke everyone in the palace, T'Challa stands between the pale walls and thinks on the youngest fugitive he's taken beneath his roof, protecting the seven from the world beyond that would put them behind bars out of fear. Barnes sleeps on in the medical suite, while Wakanda's greatest minds think on some way to break him from the hold HYDRA holds over him, but the rest of the group roam the country freely.

He can't fail to notice that they're nervous around him, polite to a fault, all scared to lose the only sanctuary they have left in the world. It was only natural to offer his assistance to Steve and Barnes after apprehending Zemo, and to subsequently find Natasha in a safe house wondering where to go next and take her in. He's almost proud of their break-in at the Raft - using his own standing with Ross, perhaps the only one of the twelve involved in the recent conflict to still have any admiration from the Secretary, to gain entry and rescue Steve's team. He remembers them as prisoners in beige uniforms, eyes wounded and anger so close to the surface, the tenacity with which they fought their way out again.

They stand on the knife edge between victim and perpetrator, their actions causing their own lives to crash down around them. Of course, there is still the matter of the Accords, and that they should have been signed, but the Raft is no place for anyone, least of all the people who risked their own lives to save countless others. A world living in fear of their heroes is not a world he wishes to support.

"Your Highness." Turning, he sees Wanda hovering in the doorway, soaked through from the rain pounding at the windows, the cold bringing colour to her cheeks. Her gaze flickers around the room, the dents in the wall smoothed out and all the broken pieces of decoration swept away. "You didn't have to do this."

"It was not your fault, Ms. Maximoff," he says, and she glances away guiltily. "Your powers are greater than most of any who call themselves enhanced. It's only natural that you should struggle to control them. The Captain told me what he could of your abilities - I understand you were handed them in odd circumstances."

"You could say that," she says softly, the slightest hint of amusement to her words, but she doesn't elaborate.

Noticing the slump of her shoulders, the sadness etched across her features and the way her fingertips run across the stone of a ring she wears, he asks, "What is it you miss, Ms. Maximoff?" She looks at him with her eyes a little wider, a little wilder, and he knows that he is right. "It seems to me that your heart is not as centred with this group as the Captain's is."

"They are my family," she says, but there's a tremor in her voice. "Steve and Natasha and Sam and Clint have all been there for me in different ways and given me a home and a place in the world. And it's hard to dislike Scott."

"That's not what I'm referring to, Ms. Maximoff," he says, staring her down. She drops her gaze first. "You forget, I did hear some small part of the stories behind the people on Mr. Stark's team. I do recall a distraction in the field."

She meets his eyes and holds out her hands in a gesture of surrender. "There's nothing anyone can do," she says, so resigned to her fate. "The Accords have divided us. I can't leave Wakanda without immediately being found. I can't contact him because Ross could be listening in. Perhaps our relationship is changed forever."

"Hope, Ms. Maximoff, is all we have these days," T'Challa says, and she stares at him for a moment before a smile slowly grows on her lips, bringing a brightness to her eyes he doesn't believe he's ever seen before. "I do not believe that a love such as yours for Vision can be so easily broken."

"I never said love, your Highness," she says, a flush stealing into her cheeks, and he simply gives a slight smile and leaves her alone.

* * *

Music pounds through the walls of the compound's small laboratory, indicating that Mr. Stark is hard at work within the room. Opening the door, Vision finds him bent over a prosthesis, sparks flying against the mask lowered over his face. "My apologies for the interruption, Mr. Stark," he says, and Stark lifts the mask with a polite smile.

"I needed to take a break," he says, pulling the thick gloves from his hands and setting them aside, turning the music down a little. "Something wrong, Vision?"

He thinks on the injuries he sustained in the fight, the story Secretary Ross spoke to him in that underground bunker over the longest night, the sky black beyond the thin windows as he was shown footage of the seven fugitives in combat, making lists under the eyes of the doctors on their weaknesses and strengths, dawn breaking on his understanding of how to defeat them. Remembering Ross' warning against telling Stark or Rhodes of the plan to hunt down the fugitives, the sneer curling Ross' lip when he talked of Stark's misplaced affection for his former teammates, Vision says, "I find myself particularly missing our former teammates. I would like to get in contact with them. I thought, Mr. Stark, that you might have a way."

"You missing them all, Vizh, or one particular former teammate?" Stark asks, arching an eyebrow and curling one corner of his mouth in a knowing smirk. It stirs a familiarity at the back of Vision's mind, a memory from before the fight that snatched all of him into an abyss, but he brushes it off. "Maybe they'll get in touch with us. I'll let them reach out if they want to. We're watched too closely."

"So they're safe?" The concern in his voice comes from somewhere deeper, but it sparks something in Stark's eyes, something that means he's breaking. "Do you know where they are, Mr. Stark?"

"They're safe, Vision, they're protected," Stark says. "She's safe. But I can't tell you where they are. They didn't tell me explicitly. I figured it out. But we're being too closely watched."

"You're protecting them." Though he's sure there's an edge to his voice, all of Ross' predictions coming true in front of him, Stark doesn't notice it, wrapped up in his own thoughts.

"You didn't see them in the Raft," he says, a darkness in his eyes. "What was being done to them wasn't what I expected. We all would've been in there if things had gone differently. If someone hadn't calmed Ross down, he would've arrested us all after what happened in Germany. They're good people at heart. That's not what I thought would happen."

Though he listens, Vision's mind is turning over Stark's words. He knows where the fugitives are, he has a way of contacting them, he's covering for them. Ross was right, Stark is unreliable because he has affection for his former teammates. Former teammates who are hiding somewhere no law enforcement can find them, somewhere under the protection of a trustworthy helper in times when no one in the world trusts the seven. No one except one other person who slipped beneath the wire, fading from every radar on the throne of a country long languishing in the shadows.

When Stark returns to work, Vision takes to the security office and the encrypted phone, dialling a number he was assured was give exclusively to him. "Sir, the fugitives are hiding in Wakanda under the protection of the king," he says, and Ross breathes in sharply at the other end of the line. "Stark has been protecting them, he has a way to contact them but hasn't used it. What should our next move be?"

"Go get them," Ross growls, and the call ends.

* * *

Darkness falls like a shroud as the hours slide past, three empty bottles on the low coffee table between them and the kitchen and Tony wrapped up in nostalgia as Rhodey listens slowly, smiling at the warmth in his voice. "You remember the first Christmas after New York?" he asks. "When we were at the tower, and out of nowhere Bruce rocked up with presents and wine on Christmas Eve and then Steve was there and when we woke up on Christmas Day Nat was somehow there? And I hadn't finished their floors or even rooms yet but we were together and it was nice."

"Like family," Rhodey says for him, and Tony smiles to himself, slow and genuine. "We had an early Christmas here, after the gala. Sam was drunk as hell, and so was I in all honesty, and Wanda fell asleep in the car on the way home, but Steve was his annoying enthusiastic self and wanted to open a present each early. Nat had a present from Clint's kids, this scarf, and she wore it for three weeks straight. We were all sitting around this tree with the lights flashing and it was three o'clock in the morning but we were together and it was good."

"You guys were a good team." Tony says, for the first time, and Rhodey grits his teeth against the fact that the past tense is still painful. "Steve and Nat really made a family out of you. I saw video of you and Sam fighting together. Good tactics."

"It's the military history," Rhodey says, and opens another bottle, half into his glass and half into Tony's. "You think they've made a family out there? On the run?"

"With Clint and Nat as close as they are, and Steve and Sam best friends, and Steve getting all protective over Wanda?" Tony asks, draining half his drink in one gulp. "They'll be a family. You gotta take care of what's important in times like these." Wiping his mouth, he casually says, "Vizh was asking after them earlier. Wanted to know if I had a way to contact them."

Hackles rising, suspicion surging up in his gut, Rhodey narrows his eyes and asks, "What did you tell him, Tony?"

"I told them they were safe and protected, and they could get in touch if they wanted to," he answers with the casual shrug of the slightly tipsy, and Rhodey breathes out in relief. "You're not still thinking that Ross is spying on us through him? He'd have to be ridiculously paranoid to do that."

"And you're the one who told me he had Wanda in a shock collar in the Raft," Rhodey points out, and Tony's eyes darken with realisation. "We just have to be careful. Even our friends couldn't figure out breaking out of a maximum security prison twice."

"Steve Rogers is a determined bastard," Tony remarks, and Rhodey laughs. "He'd figure it out. But no one's gonna get to them if T'Challa's protecting them. Good guy, that one."

"Thank you for the confirmation, Mr. Stark." Though at first listen Vision's voice is familiar, and should be reassuring, there's an iciness behind his words that has the hair's on the back of Rhodey's neck standing up, and he looks to the teammate he's spent the last year with standing as if ready to fight. There's a hardness to his eyes, and he's never looked so dangerous. So little humanity in him. "I'm leaving for Wakanda immediately."

Despite the alcohol, Tony also seems to have sensed the danger in the air, sitting up straighter and setting his glass down, flexing his fingers. "You don't want to do that, Vision," he says. "They're safe and out of the way and not hurting anyone. Ross is messing with your mind."

"No," Vision says. "He's told me what happened. How they hurt me. How the witch threw me through a building and took everything from me. That they're too dangerous to be allowed out in the world. I will bring them in to leave them in prison for the rest of their lives. If they don't cooperate, they will die."

Horrified, Rhodey wishes that Natasha was still around, concealing weapons all over the compound, or that his suit wasn't hanging in the laboratory to be mended, or that Tony was wearing the triggers for his prehensile suit. But no, they thought they were safe and could let their guard down in their home, and Ross has planted a nuclear weapon in their midst. Tony stands up, blocking the door and holding out his hands. "Vizh, listen to me, Ross did something to you. Come down to the lab, we'll figure it out, we'll fix it. You don't want to do this."

"It's my mission," Vision says, and Rhodey hears the Winter Soldier talking, the file flashing before his eyes, and closes his eyes against seeing his friend turned into a weapon, a thing. Of all the times for him to finally understand Steve's mindset.

"I won't let you hurt them," Tony says defiantly.

"Get out of my way, Mr. Stark. I was not told to see you as an enemy."

"They're your friends."

Vision's voice is chillingly cold, nothing left of the man he's grown to be, as he says, "They're my mission. And now, you are too." He moves across the room faster than blinking, his hand around Tony's throat tight enough that Tony is already turning blue, eyes bulging and fingers scrabbling uselessly at Vision's arm.

Backing his wheelchair behind the kitchen counter, Rhodey reaches towards the back of their sauce cupboard, hoping and praying to every deity that might be out there, and almost yells when his fingertips connect with cold metal and he pulls a pistol from the very back. Natasha didn't take everything, and right now he could kiss her for it. Lifting the pistol to his eye, he aims and the crack echoes through the compound, the bullet finding its mark in Vision's shoulder. It doesn't hurt him, but he starts and drops Tony. The dark material of his cape blends into the black sky as he disappears into the night, and Rhodey rushes to Tony where he lies coughing and gasping on the floor.

"Thanks," he says, and Rhodey shakes his head, watching Tony slowly sit up and rubbing at his throat, a line of red indicating there will be vivid bruising by the morning. "Shit. You were right, I should never have trusted Ross. I've been so stupid. This is definitely my fault, and now Vision might kill Steve's entire team because none of them are going to cooperate with being dragged back to prison, they're going to protect each other and he'll murder them, oh shit, oh shit, shit shit shit..."

"We don't have time for a crisis, Tony," Rhodey says urgently, even as Tony curls into a ball, his breathing ragged with panic. "Vision moves fast, he'll get to Wakanda soon enough. We can't help them from here. And neither of us will be able to live with ourselves if a single one of our former teammates ends up dead. Ross is batshit crazy and brainwashed our friend. Do you want to just sit here or do something about it?"

"Batshit," Tony repeats in a murmur, but determination is etched across his face as he stands, his hands steady. "I just need an hour to finish the repairs on your suit, and we can go. Call Maria. Tell her to meet us in Germany in the morning to help us illegally bust into the Joint Counter Terrorism Centre and grab their suits and weapons. They can't fight Vision barehanded. And tell her to get someone to find Peter and look after him before Ross gets to him too."

* * *

A knock comes at the door, a three o'clock in the morning knock that can't mean anything good, and Peter bolts out of bed to answer it. May emerges from her room a second later, her sleepy eyes wide with worry, but the man on the other side of the door smiles benignly, lifting his dark glasses. If it wasn't the middle of the night, Peter would guess he was a salesman, in his dark suit and crisp tie and dark gloves.

"Sorry to bother you so late, Ms. Parker, but I've been sent on behalf of the Strategic Homeland Enforcement and Logistics Division to your place of residence," he says. Even his voice has a salesman quirk to it, eerily polite. "I'm here for you and your nephew."

"Here for us?" May asks, rising to her full height, hands on her hips and eyes blazing in that way that usually means Peter's done something wrong. Again. "Get out of my house, sir, and if I see you here again I'll call the police."

"Please don't, ma'am, most people in the world believe I'm dead," the man says, and that stops her talking, her eyes widening. "Mr. Parker, I was sent on a tip direct from Tony Stark. My name is Agent Phil Coulson. I know all about you, of course. Enough to tell you that Secretary Ross is looking for you and I am the only one who can protect you."

"Agent Phil Coulson?" May appears to have recovered enough to be back on the attack. "What, are you with the FBI or something?"

"Or something," Agent Coulson says with a slight smile. "Just call us SHIELD. We specialise in the protection of enhanced people. And believe me, Ms. Parker, it's in your best interests to come with me. Your nephew is in danger if you stay in the open like this."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who you are and what you want with Peter," May says, edging him protectively behind her.

"I'm Agent Coulson, of SHIELD," he says again, so polite. "Secretary Ross has recently used the Avenger Vision to his advantage in a plot to arrest or kill the fugitives who have been on the run since Leipzig. Your nephew may be similarly taken advantage of if you stay here."

"Excuse me-"

"May!" Peter says, and she turns to him. "We should go with him."

Smile growing, Agent Coulson says, "Wonderful. Pack a bag quickly, just the essentials. I'll keep watch."

They leave ten minutes later, a backpack over Peter's shoulder, and Agent Coulson shepherds them downstairs, constantly looking over his shoulder, into a van with dark windows and a number of flashing lights inside. "Where are we going?" Peter asks, curious rather than scared. If Mr. Stark sent Coulson, he can't be bad.

"A safe house no one except a select few know about," Agent Coulson says, putting the van into drive, gaze darting around them. A gun lies on the seat next to him, sending a prickle of fear down Peter's spine. "Captain Rogers himself spent a few weeks there after being defrosted. It'll keep anyone from tracking you down. It'll take about ten hours to get there. Plenty of time for explaining to your aunt what exactly has happened to you the past year or so."

Peter swallows thickly and takes a deep breath. "First of all, May, please don't get mad that I kept this from you. It was an important secret."


	3. when history will not cooperate

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all your continuing comments and kudos! It's so encouraging when writing a longer fic to see that you guys are really enjoying this! Apologies once again for the angst herein. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! :)

* * *

Though it may be five o'clock in the morning in New York, the night fading in the east, Maria hasn't slept all night, still dressed from work, pacing her apartment and trying to carry on three different channels of communication. Rhodes has assured her that he and Stark are leaving for Germany, with their suits intact, and will meet her there in order to break into the storage facility where the equipment belonging to the rogue Avengers - as they're being referred to across SHIELD communication - has been taken. Coulson sent a brief message letting her know he'd found the Parker boy and his aunt and taken them both to the safehouse. And Fury is the one currently blowing up her phone.

"You went against my authority, Agent Hill!" he's saying, voice calm but edged with anger, and she has to force down the urge to shout back. "Coulson is supposed to be running the search for Hive, not giving lifts to teenage vigilantes!"

"Sir, Rhodes called me in a state and relayed a message from Stark that under no circumstances could we let Parker be taken in by Secretary Ross," Maria says, imagining Fury's hackles rising at the mention of his old nemesis. "They told me that Ross used the excuses of the evaluations of enhanced individuals to manipulate the Vision into his own weapon to hunt down the rogue Avengers. Ross will see them brought in or he'll have them killed."

"This is not a time to blindly believe anyone's stories, Hill, even if you think they're an ally," Fury snaps, and she puts an exhausted hand to her forehead, eyeing the corner of the table as something to slam her head against in hopes of falling blissfully unconscious for even a few minutes. "What did Rhodes say happened?"

"Ross took the Vision to be evaluated a week ago, and didn't return him until almost thirty-six hours later," Maria recounts, once again wishing that she could answer to Coulson, with his lack of questions. "Tonight Stark and Rhodes were talking about the rogue Avengers and let it slip where they are, and the Vision announced his intention to bring them back to prison or kill them. Rhodes mentioned that he said a few things that made him think that Ross manipulated the Vision, maybe screwed with his memories. When Stark tried to stand up to him, the Vision tried to kill him and would've succeeded had Rhodes not shot at him. Then he left, presumably going to Wakanda."

"Hang on, Hill," Fury says, and puts her on hold. Blowing out a heavy sigh, she leaves the phone on her kitchen counter while she makes yet another cup of coffee, gaze straying to the pack she keeps permanently filled with the essentials, ready to be grabbed on her way out of the door to go assist in a burglary as soon as she resolves the situation with Fury.

The line is silent for fifteen minutes, long enough to have a few slices of toast when she finally realises how hungry she is, and wonders for the millionth time in her life why she chose this profession. When Fury returns, even his voice has him sounding obviously shaken. "I took a look at the footage from the compound. You were right. Patching it through to you."

Her laptop beeps with the message, and she watches the clip with her knuckles white on her phone, her mouth open in silent horror. To see Vision made a weapon is awful, after he's spent the last year working his way towards humanity, telling terrible jokes and insisting on everyone using his nickname and becoming part of the family. "And I thought this entire situation couldn't get any worse," Fury remarks. "What is Stark's next step?"

"He wants to get to the rogue Avengers first, warn them what's coming and do what he can to help," Maria explains, but she knows that it's not enough. "I'm on my way to Germany now to help him."

Fury simply sniffs. "Good."

* * *

Sunlight falls prettily through the leaves arching over the narrow paths that Vision walks, hood pulled up to hide his recognisable features, body temperature regulated to keep him cool despite the oppressive heat.

Something like nausea rises in his gut when he remember Stark's face painted thick with betrayal, his eyes concerned and then terrified. He remembers how it felt to have a man's life in his hand, feel the frantic flutter of a pulse against his fingers, to see Stark struggling for air. How would it have felt to hold on until the struggling stopped? To kill a man?

There's still a slight wound in his shoulder where Rhodes shot him, the crack of the bullet leaving the gun still echoing like thunder in the back of his mind, and he runs a fingertip around the shallow circle, brooding. Though the bullet did not hurt him, but there was something about the set of Rhodes' mouth and the pain of indecision in his eyes that tugged on something human within Vision's being, occupying his mind where he should be thinking on the fight he is about to face.

Rogers. Barnes. Wilson. Barton. Lang. Romanoff. Maximoff. Their names circle through his mind, vivid and distinct, their faces floating through the mists his memory has been left in by the confrontation. He sees the gleam of silver that is Barnes' arm, his greatest weapon; the red of Romanoff's hair, whipping around her shoulders as she takes down a foe faster than lightning; the green of Maximoff's eyes, glancing at a camera lens seconds before her powers fried the circuits.

The lists follow the names in endless circles across his memory, brought together from years of files and footage of the seven fugitives, neatly chronicling their strengths and weaknesses. He has to aim for Rogers' legs; Barton is not as skilled at hand to hand combat as Romanoff; Lang has only been powered for a year and does not know everything about his suit; Wilson's humanity can be appealed to. He was part of their team for a year, there was a closeness there if the warmth he was afforded by Stark and Rhodes was anything to judge by. And yet, they turned on him. As he will turn on them.

Not that he wishes to kill them. Humanity is valuable, after all. But the one thing that seems to tie all seven together as a team is their complete and utter stubborn belief that what they are doing is right, though it clearly isn't to anyone who pauses to look at the situation with head and not heart. The Accords were an offer extended by the governments of the world as a sign of friendship and support, and they tossed it aside and went their own way.

It will not be difficult to find the motivation to kill them for their actions.

* * *

Tony would be lying to say that he isn't a little surprised that he actually finds Maria waiting for them when he turns a corner away from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, dressed as just another office worker in neat black and white. She even appears calm, as they wait in an alleyway for night to fall, silently opening her black backpack and loading several pistols into holsters across her back and at her hips. "So what's the plan?" she asks, loading yet another pistol with tranquilisers and slotting it into her boot.

"We contacted Sharon on our way over, managed to convince her we were here to help, and she told us that the suits and weapons seized after Leipzig are being stored on sub level three," Tony tells her, and her face sets slowly into what he's come to know as her battle mask. "Rhodey stayed in the jet and has managed to hack the computer systems, he'll be able to shut down power long enough for us to get in undetected. But stay on high alert. Ross will probably know by now that me and Rhodey abandoned the compound and put the world on alert for us." Saying it brings the thought to the front of his mind, and he muses, "Huh. I guess T'Challa's the only one of us the governments of the world still like."

"You've put yourselves between a rock and a hard place," Maria says, and looks at him with a sudden sincere concern in her eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this, Tony? It's not too late for you and Rhodey to turn back and stay within the boundaries of the Accords. The second you break into this place, you're criminals too."

"Ross did something terrible," Tony says, raising a hand to brush against the painful collar of bruises circling his neck, blood chilled by the memory of Vision's cold eyes, so like a machine rather than a man, and the clinical way he seemed so ready to kill. "Y'know, it's a bit like what HYDRA did to Barnes. Making him their weapon to shape the world their way."

"The Winter Soldier, but with the powers of an infinity stone," Maria says softly, and hearing it spelt out like that freezes Tony's thoughts with fear. "I have footage from the compound last night when Vision left. Once we've done this, I'll start reaching out to people and seeing what we can do to prove what Ross did."

He nods to her, and gets into position as Rhodey's voice comes humming through the last of their stock of communication devices. "You have a two minute window to get inside," he says, and Maria grits her teeth. "Surveillance shows there are four guards on the door to the storage room and around twenty more on your way down. You got enough bullets?"

"I have my fists and I'm pissed," Tony says, and hears Rhodey chuckle, despite the precarious situation they've found themselves in. "Keep an eye on everything for us. This should be quick. In and out. We only have to get Sam and Lang's suits and Clint's bow."

"Easy," Maria says, and wheels around the edge of the building. Tony follows behind, knuckles white around his own gun, gaze flickering from side to side, searching for a shadow of a foe. Maria shoots out two cameras in quick succession, and they slip into the centre without a soldier appearing.

Two silent shots, and two guards crumple in front of the elevator, Maria darting inside seconds before an alarm starts wailing. Crouching down, Tony swears loudly finding one soldier's finger pressed solidly against a panic button wired into his uniform. "Alright, Plan A was a bust," he remarks, and Maria sighs heavily. "What's Plan B?"

"Get the suits at all costs," she says, and grabs him into the elevator, slamming her palm against the button for the level they need. The tramp of boots echoes around them as they descend, and Tony's heart pounds against his ribcage with adrenaline.

Below the main level, everything is lit up in eerie red. The detention cells are two levels below, and Tony's vision flashes red with hatred when the thought occurs that Zemo is down there, wasting away in a tiny cell with walls of glass. Maria's hand on his arm stops him moving towards the stairwell, and she holds a finger to her lips, eyes swivelling every which way. "East stairwell," she hisses, and spins behind a pillar, fingers poised on her gun.

Four soldiers descend on them in neat formation, and there's a blur of gunshots and shouting and fists hitting flesh. Six more arrive quickly, and Maria hits every one of them with a tranquilising dart, barely even out of breath. "You better get moving," Rhodey says over the comms. "I've got twelve more coming. The storage room is to your right."

The guards at the storage room don't see them coming until the darts find their mark in their necks, each of them crumpling to the floor in quick succession. Tapping in the code Rhodey reels off, twelve digits long, his hand remarkably steady for the pressure of the situation, Tony heaves the metal door open and almost knocks a cabinet over in his haste to reach the labelled cupboard. Sam's wings, Lang's suit and Clint's bow are all in separate sealed boxes, each with their own code, and he's snapping at Rhodey to tell him faster, Maria poised in the doorway and waiting for more soldiers.

Hoisting Clint's half-full quiver over one shoulder, Tony says, "Let's go," and runs out ahead of Maria. Soldiers are coming from both sides, and he makes a split-second decision. Charges up the stairs and holds the heavy pack containing Sam's wings in front of him as a shield as he jumps through the window, landing heavily in an alleyway.

"You need to stop doing these things," Maria says, landing much more lightly than him, tucking her guns back into their holsters and dragging him through twisting streets to the waiting jet and Rhodey sitting in the pilot's seat looking somewhere between disapproving and impressed. "But you got the job done. Congratulations, Tony, you're a criminal."

"Better than being Ross' personal hitman," Rhodey remarks, and Tony winces at the phrasing. "Speaking of which, we better get going. Vizh is probably in Wakanda by now."

Turning to Maria, standing on the ramp of their quinjet with her arms folded, Tony holds out his hands in a gesture of surrender and says, "I don't suppose I can ask you to give us a twelve hour head start before you tell Fury what we're doing?"

"Oh, he already knows," Maria says with a smirk curling one corner of her mouth. "You think I'm going to get Peter taken to a safehouse then race off to Germany to help with the burglary of a well-known counter terrorism centre and not tell my boss? Don't worry, he's always loathed Ross. Enhanced persons have shaped every decision he's made as director since you started the Iron Man business. The TAHITI project was his idea."

"What's the TAHITI project?" Tony asks, and she just smiles.

"Come back from this mission alive and well and with the whole team intact, and I'll tell you." With those last words, she leaves, the ramp rises with a hiss and Rhodey sets up the flight path to Wakanda.

* * *

"Straighten your arm," T'Challa says, standing a foot away from Wanda with his eyes hard and face set. "Move your left leg further back. You need to have a stable base in hand-to-hand combat. Try again."

In a split-second, she's on her back again on the floor, T'Challa palm spread over her sternum. "Use your opponent's strength against them," he instructs as he helps her back onto her feet. "You're small and light, and you can use that to your advantage in a fight with men who will be most likely taller and heavier than you."

"I'm used to powers," she says, grabbing her towel and water bottle from the bench and sparing a glance for Clint and Natasha sparring at the opposite end of the gym, a blur of flying limbs and sharply defined technique.

"You cannot rely solely on that, Miss Maximoff," T'Challa says, appearing hardly out of breath despite their long hours of training. "It could be that you come up against someone who isn't affected by your abilities. You could end up in a situation where you cannot use them. Everyone should have basic training in hand-to-hand combat."

The door swings open to Sam and Scott, laughing back and forth, and T'Challa steps back. "Mr. Wilson, take my place with Miss Maximoff," he says, and Sam nods, giving Wanda a warm smile as he peels off his hoodie and tosses it over the bench. "Mr. Lang, you'll be training with me, We'll see what you've got."

"Uh oh," Scott murmurs, and Wanda laughs softly at her teammate. T'Challa escorts Scott away from them, and Sam takes his place, holding his hands out for Wanda to practice her punching, eyes on her so serious.

"How you doing these days, kiddo?" he asks softly, and she shrugs, letting the dull sound of her punching into his glove over and over again take over her thoughts. "Any more nightmares?"

"I get...flashes, sometimes," she says, uncertain, and his face darkens with worry. "Pain. Fear. Anger. A mind in conflict. I've been in so many people's heads, it could be anyone. Seen so many memories. Caused so much fear." She trails off, fists falling back to her sides, and Sam reaches out to her, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

"Do you think these are just dreams, like Steve says?" he asks. "I mean, your powers are weird and science doesn't really understand them. Could you be having visions of the future or something?"

"My mind tends to wander when I'm sleeping, it's probably just me seeing flashes of everyone in the palace dreaming," she says, but her words sound hollow, a lie to make things simpler. "But I can't shake the feeling that it's something worse. That something is going on back in the real world. Something bad."

"Tony would call," Sam says, strength of unwavering belief in his words, the best of their team, the most ready to forgive and cling to the slender thread of trust they've built. "Or Rhodey. We've known them too long for them to forget we exist if there's really something terrible happening."

"What if they don't know?" she asks, and the question hangs in the silence, Sam's eyes filled with worry and her own mind spinning with hypothetical situations, each more awful than the last. "We can't pretend that we aren't part of the world any more, just because we're in hiding."

"Believe me, kid, I know," Sam says, pulling the gloves from his hands and rubbing at his temples as if warding off a headache. "And if Tony calls, we'll answer. But as long as he doesn't, the only way we have to find things out is through the news, and you know they're always behind if a threat is bigger. We just have to believe that Tony and Rhodey and Vision can handle it."

He must notice the hitch in her breath, because he puts an arm around her and turns them away from the rest of the gym, Clint and Natasha grappling so fluidly it's almost like dancing, T'Challa watching Scott practicing on a punching bag and Steve weightlifting with one of the palace guards spotting for him. "Look, Wanda, I know this is a sensitive topic, but there's something we need to know, as your team and friends who want to help you get through this," he says, and she knows what's coming, dreads the question as much as she knows the truth in her heart. "Are you in love with Vision?"

"Yes." The word slips out before she can even think of a more eloquent response, an answer that's been true for months although she never said it. Sam's arm tightens convulsively around her, and she leans against him for a moment, forcing the swell of emotion that rises in her chest back down.

"Dammit," Sam sighs, and she looks up at him in surprise, ready to argue her case. "That means I owe Rhodey twenty bucks. Should never have made that bet."

"You bet that I wasn't in love with him?" she asks, her voice rising in decibel with anger, and Natasha and Clint are both glancing over at her and smirking a little to themselves.

"I happened to say that I thought Rhodey was looking too much into your relationship and that you were just friends, and he bet me twenty bucks I was wrong," Sam says. "Man, that was months ago. Maybe he's forgotten." Turning his gaze back to her, voice soft and concerned once again, he says, "That's great, for you. Admitting it to someone else is good. Maybe when we sort this all out you can act on it."

She opens her mouth to reply, and an alarm rings through the palace, a harsh electric buzz that has her clapping her hands to her ears to block it out, seeing the grimaces on the faces of her teammates. T'Challa vanishes back into the palace immediately, face set in stone. The tramp of feet echoes around them, palace guards coming together to target the threat, and Steve pulls them all into a corner, eyes filled with worry and mouth set in a hard line. "Could be Stark," Clint suggests.

"He's not stupid enough to show up without calling ahead," Natasha says, adjusting her ponytail and glancing at the door to the gym. "I heard guards talking about rebellion amongst the people, thinking T'Challa shouldn't be protecting us. Probably just someone trying to get to us. The guards will get them."

But they stand together rather than edging apart, watching the door. When the alarm quiets, silence prevails, and then a scream makes them all start, a thready yell that echoes through the dark walls. It cuts off abruptly, and Wanda can see her teammates tensing up, shifting almost imperceptibly into fighting stance, fingers curling into fists and eyes hardening with determination.

It's not a Wakandan rebel who walks through the door, though, weapons blazing and anger at the surface. It's not Tony Stark either. Vision comes into their midst, looking just the way he did the last time she saw him as soldiers wrapped her in chains and forced her into a windowless cell in the back of a van, and she nearly buckles, her breathing growing ragged. It's Steve who steps forward and says, "Well, Tony didn't tell us he was sending a representative, but I can't say we're not pleased to see you, Vizh."

"I wish I could say the same, Captain Rogers." Wanda's heart skips initially, just to hear him outside of her memories, but there's something minutely different about him, a lack of the warmth that's grown over the past year in his voice, something that sends a chill ricocheting down her spine. "I am here on behalf of Secretary Ross. If you come with me now, no harm will come to you or your families."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Clint asks, brows lowering in confusion, moving to Steve's side.

"Rogers. Barnes. Wilson. Barton. Lang. Romanoff. Maximoff." Vision intones their names like a mantra or a prayer, with so little feeling, and his eyes move over them without warmth, cold as steel. "You have committed atrocities against the people of the world. You hide here, shielded by a king. You are to come with me to be taken back to confinement in the Raft. We cannot allow you to continue to roam free."

Scott is the one who rushes forward, the only one of them who lacks a deeper connection to Vision, anger painted across his face. "We're not coming with you," he snaps, drawing himself to his full height, and Vision's gaze moves to him, almost pitying.

"Very well," he says, and a mere flick of his hand sends Scott flying across the room, hitting the wall with a sickening crack and sliding into a crumpled heap.

Sam is the first to snap into action, running forward and into a punch that Vision phases through, sending Sam sprawling across the floor. Frozen in shock, Wanda is almost dragged off her feet when Steve seizes her by the wrist and dives with her behind a stack of gym mats seconds before a jet of light burns a hole through the floor where they were standing.

"What the fuck do we do, Cap?!" Clint roars from his hiding place behind a treadmill, rolling to the side at another shot from the gem, Vision's familiar face set in a mask of hatred. "I tried fighting this guy, it doesn't work!"

"Distract him, I'm thinking!" Natasha screams, darting from piece of equipment to piece of equipment.

Sam charges again, and is sent flying by a punch so forceful the sound of it echoes through the gym. Spitting out blood, he staggers to his feet, and Clint moves to protect him, throwing a dumbbell at Vision's head that phases straight through him. Ignoring Steve's frantic hissing to stay put, Wanda darts to Scott's unconscious form, frantically feeling for a pulse. A slight flutter against her fingertips brings a rush of relief, and she levitates him to the corner of the room, out of the way of the fighting.

Vision's gaze turns to her, a blaze of anger in the eyes that used to look at her with so much behind them, and he says, "You. You're the witch. You threw me through a building and took my mind from me."

"I didn't do that!" she shouts, tears springing to her eyes despite all attempts to push them away. She's lost him, just as she feared, to lies and something that changed him. "Vizh, it's me!"

She barely dodges his shot at her, a split-second warning when she sees the gem begin to glow, diving to the side and sprawling on the ground, knowing there are already bruises beginning to form. Steve runs forward with a shout, and blocks two punches before one lands solidly across his face and he collapses.

Natasha appears from nowhere, in her signature move, thighs clamped around Vision's neck. But he changes his density and she slips, and he throws her so hard she crashes through a treadmill and lies still. "Tasha!" Clint cries out, and throws himself back into the fight. The crack when Vision twists his arm is grotesquely audible, and his yell of pain has the hairs on the back of Wanda's neck standing up.

"Enough!" Vision shouts, rising from the ground, a terrible force above them all, uncontainable power. "It would not be difficult for me to kill all of you. You are all criminals, dangerous, murderers and thieves. You are wrong, though you think you are right. But Secretary Ross would prefer that you are brought in where your minds can be changed to support his cause."

"We'll never support him!" Sam shouts, voice thick with the blood pouring from his broken nose, and Vision just shakes his head. A shot at the ground barely a foot in front of Sam, and the explosion sends him flying, crashing to the ground and not getting up.

Wanda is the last one standing, Scott, Steve and Natasha all unconscious, Clint grey with pain and clutching his arm, Sam covered in his own blood and swaying as he tries to sit up. Vision flies above her, and she sees the man she loves, who sat at her side on a rooftop in the dead of night and told her stories from the mythologies of a thousand societies, saved her life when they'd known each other less than a day, was the only one who let her talk her grief through when she was processing her brother's death. But when she blinks he's an enemy, a weapon whose intention is to kill her and her friends, and her hand is steady when she raises her arm, red flowing between her fingertips and growing brighter by the second.

Tears slip down her cheeks, and she murmurs, "I'm sorry," as she shoots a jet of red at him, the yellow of the gem darkening to scarlet, and he slams to the ground. Reaching for his mind while he's reeling, she feels only darkness and lies and cold, not the warmth and colour she's used to. But everyone has a greatest fear, and when she moves closer she finds it. A fear of death that she brings to the surface, seeing his eyes change to something wild, closer to an animal than a human. A thin border of red circles his pupils from her power, and he scrambles away from them, phasing through a wall and disappearing.

And she slides down the wall, curling her knees to her chest and resting her head there, and cries. Cries for Vision, moulded into a weapon, turned against all of them. Cries for her teammates, attacked yet again by someone they once considered a friend. Cries for herself, lost in a changing world and the eye of the storm. Cries for the broken pieces of her heart that seem like barbs in her bones. She cries until her sobs run dry and fade into hiccuping whimpers, and then she stands.

Clint lies unconscious now, passed out from the pain. Sam's face is smeared thickly with drying blood, his clothes spotted with it, but he stands too. "We'll see what the damage is out there," he says, voice shaking, and takes her hand.

What awaits them is so awful that her hand flies to her mouth the second they see it. Every guard lies unconscious, some visibly breathing and some not. Bulletholes pattern the walls, weapons that did nothing against Vision, and Sam looked nauseated as they move through the silent rooms.

T'Challa awaits them in the medical suite, Doctor Mamadou and his team attending to him with astonishing calm, thread bulging from a wound crossing just below his right eye. "Something terrible has happened," he says in his slow, deep voice, and Sam nods, teeth gritted. "Twelve good men are dead. Many more are injured."

"We'd all be dead if Wanda hadn't fought him," Sam says, squeezing her shoulder, and she lets out an agonised dry sob.

"Let me set that nose, Mr. Wilson, it looks nasty," a young woman says, and he follows her. Wanda faces T'Challa as the doctors move away and he gazes at her with eyes that seem to seek out all her secrets.

"I am sorry, Miss Maximoff," he finally says, and she looks away. "Are you hurt?"

"Not physically," she says, and he nods, understanding. "But Steve, Natasha, Clint and Scott are all unconscious."

A silent gesture, and four doctors come to her, following her down to the half-destroyed gym and lifting her teammates onto stretchers. She sees the dark bruise rising across the entire left side of Steve's face, the strange angle of Natasha's right ankle, Scott so still, and she wants to do nothing more than weep.

Going into Steve's room for the radio, to play some music through the medical suite and keep it from being so eerily silent other than the groans of pain from the many who have been injured, she opens a drawer to a phone vibrating across the wood. An old flip model, chipped at one corner, that she picks up and opens, pressing it against her face, still blotchy from crying. "Rogers, you have a problem."

"Stark?"

"Wanda? Put Steve on the line, I have to talk to him." Tony sounds so scared, and she knows what he must be calling for. "Wanda?"

"Steve's in the medical suite," she says. "Unconscious. What you're calling to warn us about already happened. Vision is...he attacked us. Tried to kill us."

"It's not him, Wanda, I promise," Tony says through gritted teeth, every word so forceful. "Ross did something to him, he messed with his mind and made him the US government's personal attack dog. Is everyone okay?"

"None of the team are dead," she answers, and hears Tony breathe a long sigh of relief. "But twelve of T'Challa's palace guards were killed."

"Holy shit," Tony breathes. "Fuck. Okay. Rhodey and I are about two hours out, we'll be there by sunset. We've got Sam and Lang's suits and Clint's bow, and as many weapons as we could get from the compound. We'll all talk when everyone's awake. Tell them we're on our way."


	4. the aftershocks live on

**A/N:** Thank you once again for all the comments! I promise we will get to the true Wanda/Vision parts soon! :) Hope everyone enjoys this instalment!

* * *

Fury bows forward over the desk, Maria and Coulson both sitting quietly opposite him, the screen built into the wood once again running through the brief minutes of footage from the Avengers Compound. It's perhaps the twentieth time they've watched the Vision attempt to murder Tony Stark, and it's still a chilling sight. "Turn it off," Coulson finally says, and drops his head into his hands with a long sigh.

"Hill," Fury says, breaking the tense silence, and she looks up, "have you heard from Stark or Rhodes?"

"No, sir," she answers, a flash of something frightened in her eyes. "They should be close to Wakanda by now if not already there. Rhodes was anxious that they get there as soon as possible because Vision was very probably heading there himself."

"And what do we know about the Vision's powers?" Fury asks, and he can't miss the glance Maria and Coulson exchange. "Dr. Cho has been looking into this since Sokovia, you can't tell me we don't know anything."

"The limits of his powers have never been tested, sir, since he hasn't been heavily involved in field work with Rogers," Maria says, and Fury huffs in irritation. "But there's a whole list of what we know he can do. If the US Secretary of State truly has Vision completely under his power, it's only a matter of time until he uses that power to throw us all into war."

"We're going to suffer," Coulson says darkly. "Stark and Rhodes broke the Accords by walking away from the compound and breaking into the Joint Counter Terrorism Centre without orders. The only person out there who signed the Accords without subsequently breaking them is now Vision, who is clearly taking orders from Ross to the peril of the rest. And the world is looking to us for answers because we created the Avengers."

"This is not our fault," Maria says forcefully. "This is manipulation and egos and repressed issues and a mad scramble for power. You know as well as I do that enhanced and alien threats are growing bigger every day, and we need people to fight for us. Vision is the most powerful Avenger - we need to get him away from Ross."

"What we need is to take Ross down," Fury says, and both nod in agreement. "That video proves that whatever has been done to the Vision was done by Ross. He's only after the rogue Avengers for now, but he could start looking to other enhanced people. The Hell's Kitchen vigilantes. Inhumans. Thousands more that we don't know about."

"Ross doesn't just want them in prison, he wants them gone completely," Coulson says. "He'll see every enhanced person in the world killed to protect what he wants for the world. When he's done using the Vision as his attack dog, he'll kill him too. We have to get him behind bars."

"I'll talk to our friends," Fury says, and there's a nod of understanding from both of his deputies.

* * *

Silence prevails in the medical suite, filled only by the rustle of clothing, the humming of machinery and the occasional sound from one of the many lying in the clean white beds. Curled into a chair with her hands wrapped tightly around the phone, waiting for the call telling her Tony and Rhodey have arrived to shed some light on the situation, Wanda snaps back to reality when Clint shifts in his bed with a groan. Setting the phone down, she leans over to still him before he tries to sit up and jostles his arm from the position it's been tightly strapped into. "Hey kiddo," he says softly, giving her a smile. "You look a hell of a lot better than the rest of us."

"Don't joke," she says sternly, and looks away from him, unable to stop her gaze from drifting to the bandage and the bruises. "This is _so_ bad, you're all hurt so badly-"

"Hey, it's okay," Clint says, uninjured hand taking hers and squeezing reassuringly. "We've all had worse. Remind me to tell you about what happened to Nat and I in 2009 when we were in Budapest."

She can barely give him a tight smile at his attempt at humour, and he tilts his head at her with such concern in his eyes, a callback to the days following their fight in Sokovia. "There is no way for you to blame yourself for this," he finally says, and she clutches the phone tighter for security, her knuckles white. "Whatever Ross did, he made a weapon. None of us could've seen this coming. If this is what the Accords meant saying the UN would control our actions as heroes, I'm glad I refused to sign."

"There's no way this can be the UN," Sam chimes in from his vigil at Scott's bedside, concern darkening his eyes at the way the medical team haven't yet stated their diagnosis on Scott or Natasha's conditions. "Vision said he was acting under Ross' orders. So what Ross wants is either for us to fall in line and sign the Accords, us back in prison or us all dead."

"After that I don't think Ross is going to be open to us being free to do what we want anymore," Clint observes, and Wanda bows her head, unable to think of the attack without seeing Vision's familiar face set with hatred, eyes cold and unfeeling. "It'll be us in prison or us dead."

The phone gripped so tightly in Wanda's hand begins to vibrate, and she leaves the men to be attended to by the medical team, following the turn of the dark wood-panelled corridors to the entryway. As the last piece of sunlight fades below the horizon and welcomes the spill of night, the familiar black quinjet is landing, dipping below the trees swaying in the wind, and such a sight undeniably tugs at Wanda's heart, bringing up so many memories of their year as a team, moving around the world without limits or hatred, greeted with joy wherever they went.

When she raises the phone to her ear, it's Rhodey's voice on the other end, filled with the warmth of days past, flooding her through with nostalgia. "Where are you, kid?"

"I'm waiting at the entrance," she answers, swallowing a swell of emotion. "T'Challa knows you're coming and his guards won't try and stop you. But...uh, I haven't told the rest of the team that you two were headed our way."

Rhodey chuckles softly, and says, "Probably for the best, honestly. We'll be right there" He hangs up, and Wanda stows the phone away and waits, watching the pathway out towards the hangar.

Seeing Rhodey and Tony for the first time since the fight in the airport brings so many emotions rushing to the surface that for a moment she struggles to stand, almost buckling at seeing Tony walking towards the palace with so much uncertainty in his eyes, Clint's bow and quiver slung over his back, and Rhodey rolling along next to him in his wheelchair, holding Sam's wings and Scott's suit and helmet in his lap. When their gazes meet, silence holds for a second before Rhodey's stoic expression splits into a smile, and he moves forward and takes her hand. "It's good to see you, Wanda," he says gently, and she just nods to him, lost for words.

Tony clears his throat loudly, and for the first time she notices the fading bruising around his neck, blotched yellow and green with splashes of vivid black and blue still there, shaped distinctly like fingers. "We brought weapons," he says weakly, pulling demonstratively at the strap of Clint's quiver. "Guns and so on are still in the jet. We thought bringing the suits straight out would be kinda like a peace offering."

"They gave our weapons back to the compound?" Wanda asks, and Tony and Rhodey glance sideways at each other, the slightest shadow of a smirk curling one corner of Rhodey's mouth.

"We're later than we wanted because we had to fly to Berlin and break into the Joint Counter Terrorism Centre to get them," Rhodey explains, and Wanda stands in shock, speechless. "Maria came with us, so Fury knows that we've now all broken the Accords, if we signed them in the first place. He supports us trying to protect each other and stop Ross. What he's done isn't right - but you know that. We'll talk about that more when everyone's together." He clears his throat, adjusts the position of Scott's helmet in his lap, and adds, "Speaking of which, how are they? How bad was it?"

"Clint's woken up since, his worst injury is a dislocated shoulder," Wanda intones dully, parroting the words of the medical team who've been tending to the injured. "Steve is still under, they say his worst is a fractured cheekbone and a lot of bruising around his face. They're not sure yet about Scott and Natasha, they were both thrown into walls and through things. Sam was never unconscious, he's been trying to help the Wakandans with clean-up."

"This is just so bad," Rhodey groans, and she nods. He moves past her, into the palace and the quiet of the aftermath, but Tony stands for a moment, fidgeting with the buttons on his blazer. She watches him closely, not without suspicion, until he pulls a folded paper from his pocket and offers it to her.

"Vision had this hidden in a book in his room," he explains, pressing it insistently into her hands. "I swiped it before Ross brought him back from what we thought was a psych eval. Didn't think he or you would want a US government official seeing it."

Unfolding it, she nearly drops it when she sees the photograph she kept in her room too, hidden at the back of her sheet music book for that guitar Sam presented her with the first day they met, insisting he didn't want it anymore and she needed a hobby. It got left behind when Clint took her to Germany, but she's looked at it so many times in the dead of night that every detail is engraved on her memory. The chip in the nail polish on her left ring finger, despite the fact she'd only painted them earlier that day. Her red dress shimmering slightly in the low light, picked out by Natasha and getting a dozen compliments from Sam before they'd even gotten into the car. Vision's hand curved over her waist, drawing her closer, and she can remember the way the air crackled with tension and her heart pounding and the crowd fading into nothing around them.

A spot of water blotches the corner of the photograph, and she realises suddenly that she's crying, and Tony looks absolutely horrified. "I thought you'd want it," he says hastily. "I didn't want to leave it when we abandoned the compound, in case Ross rocked up and found it and made things worse. I can destroy it if you want."

She wants to thank him, say something eloquent and honest, but the pressure in her chest is so that she's sure if she opens her mouth it won't be words that come out, but sobs. Clutching the photograph tightly, she steps forward and hugs him, an arm around his neck and her head buried in his shoulder. After a moment of stillness, he hugs her back, and rests an uncertain hand on her hair. "It's okay," he says softly. "We'll fix it."

Stepping back, wiping her eyes, she gives him a watery smile and looks one last time at the photograph before folding it tightly and tucking it into her pocket, letting her hope build again. If she can't have faith, there's nothing left in the world for her except the oncoming storm. "Everyone's in the medical suite," she says, and Tony nods, falling into step behind her.

Sam shoots to his feet the second she opens the door with Tony and Rhodey behind her, and grabs her hand to pull her towards him. "Stay behind me," he murmurs, then raises his voice and says, "I don't know what you two want, but you better get out of here. We've had a bad enough day without you sticking your noses in and bringing the US military here."

"Well that's one way to thank someone for bringing your wings back," Tony says, picking up the pack from Rhodey's lap and tossing it to Sam. "And believe me, I know how bad it was. How do you think I got these bruises?"

Clint looks as menacing as he can while lying in a hospital bed, glaring at Tony, and says, "So why are you here? To drag us back to the Raft and leave us there?"

"We're here to fight with you," Rhodey says, Sam and Clint's gazes snapping to him. "Ross turned our friend into a weapon, and Ross wants you all under his authority or dead. We won't let that happen. You're angry with us - fine, be angry. We'll be angry with you too. This is all a shitty situation, but if Vision stays under Ross' orders it's about to get a whole lot worse for everyone. We want to help."

Clint opens his mouth again, to start an inevitable argument, but Wanda steps between the two pairs of men, glancing from Tony and Rhodey willing to lay the fight to temporary rest and help them, and Sam and Clint with their anger close to the surface, and says, "We have bigger problems than fighting. When Steve and Scott and Natasha wake up, we don't want to be arguing. If Vision comes back, we want suits and weapons and everyone around to help."

"And the Spiderkid?" Sam asks, folding his arms and staring Tony down. "What have you done with him? Just left him alone with Ross on the rampage and our extremely powerful teammate under brainwashing?"

"Maria took Peter and his aunt to a safehouse, they're out of the way of everything until we fix this," Tony answers, and Sam appears to finally relax. Tony smiles a little, and it's almost visible how the bridges begin to rebuild in their time of crisis.

* * *

Wincing with every movement, Scott finishes loading a tray with coffee mugs and walks back to the conference room carefully balancing them. Setting it down in the centre of the long, highly-polished table, he returns to his seat and lets the silence wash over him, everyone staring at the wood and wondering what to say. He can't even look Stark and Rhodes in the eye, keeping his gaze on the backs of his hands.

It's been over twenty-four hours since they were attacked, but his head is still pounding with pain and the effects are even more obvious in Clint's arm strapped tightly to his chest to help heal his dislocated shoulder, and the splint securing Natasha's broken ankle, and the thick white bandage correcting the position of Sam's spectacularly broken nose. Stark has a ring of dark bruising around his neck, and finally clears his throat and says, "I'm sorry I didn't warn you in time."

"It's not your fault, Tony," Steve says, soothing, and there are so many words lost in the the space between him and Stark when they look at each other. "Although maybe you could explain what the hell happened here and why Vision tried to murder us."

"Alright," Stark says, and stands up, leaning over the table like he's taking a simple business meeting, and not a discussion about a former friend who tried to kill them all. "So, as some of you will know, one of the conditions of the Accords was that all enhanced persons would submit themselves and their suits to the UN for psychological evaluation and listing of powers and abilities. I went through it, then Rhodey, and it was what you'd expect - a written quiz, talking to a therapist, telling representatives what our suits could do after swearing to tell the whole truth. Then Ross himself came for Vision, with guards, and took him. Even though it was a little suspicious, we-" Rhodes clears his throat pointedly, and Stark amends, "I dismissed it because I wanted to trust Ross. He promised Vizh back at the compound within thirty-six hours, and even though he kept to that he brought back a different man."

"So how did Vision find out that we were in Wakanda?" Clint asks, animosity poured into his words, glaring over the rim of his coffee mug. "Matter of fact, how did you find out? None of us have been in touch with you."

"All seven of you disappeared with the whole world looking for you and T'Challa," Stark inclines his head respectfully towards the king, seated silently at the table and watching the proceedings, "was the only one who Ross didn't try to prosecute. I figured it out, but I didn't come looking because Ross was watching us far too closely, and I didn't tell Fury for the same reason. But I must've dropped enough hints that Vision picked up on it and pieced them together, and he announced his intention to leave."

Stark falls silent at those words, and Rhodes smoothly takes over the story-telling. "Ross had spun Vision a different version of events so he'd start to see us as his enemies and not his friends, inflating crimes and teaching him everyone's weaknesses and telling him that his memory was gone because Wanda had thrown him through a building during the airport battle. When Tony stood up to him and tried to persuade him to turn around, Vision tried to kill him. I shot at him, obviously didn't hurt him but it surprised him enough that he left us both and flew off. We would've followed, but we had to get suits so you would be able to fight him, so we went to Berlin and retrieved what we could."

"So you've both broken the Accords too?" Natasha asks, wincing as she leans forward, and Stark and Rhodes both nod. A smirk curls one corner of her mouth, and she says, "I knew you'd break them as soon as you needed something, Tony."

"I'm not going to listen to a government that let one of its most senior members turn my friend into a weapon," Stark says. "So none of us are liked by governments anymore, and we have only ourselves to fix what's happened. Question is, what do we do?"

"Vision has probably gone back to Ross and told him he didn't take any of us in by now," Natasha says, and Stark and Steve both nod in agreement, faces setting slowly into serious, stoic masks. "Since we fought back, Ross is more likely to give the order to kill. So next time Vision shows up, we fight harder."

"But we got our asses royally kicked by him last night, and even having our suits back isn't going to change that," Scott chimes in, and most look down at the polished tabletop, brooding. "That guy is more powerful than any of us."

"Not true," Clint says, and glances at Wanda, who has stayed suspiciously silent throughout the meeting, hands twisting anxiously in her lap. "Wanda can control the stone, which controls Vision's powers."

"So, she can fight," Stark says. "Not everyone can or should fight Vision. There's so much power behind him, and with this brainwashing he's not holding back from using it in a much more lethal way than we've seen much of. I would say that we split and only half of us go up against him. Anyone whose strength is in hand-to-hand combat can't stand up against him, and we don't need anyone else severely injured."

A moment of silence, then Steve says, "In other words, you want to fight him and you want the rest of us out of the way. Of course you do. Is this how you prove yourself, Tony?"

"I'm trying to stop Vision from tearing good people apart!" Stark snaps, eyes flaring with anger. "I'm not suggesting I fight him alone. I don't want to fight him alone. I'm saying that people whose fighting style only works up close should take a back seat on this one. You, Lang, T'Challa and Natasha."

"When I'm shrunken I can punch with the force of a bullet!" Scott protests loudly.

"You got taken out of action with one flick of a finger, and your spine is bruised, do you really want to go up against Vision again?" Natasha asks, staring him down, and he shrinks back into his chair, quietly thinking once again about how truly terrifying his teammate is.

"Mr. Stark, I understand why you would want Captain Rogers and Mr. Lang away from the fighting, but my suit is infused with vibranium and I can deflect the attacks when I am prepared for them," T'Challa says, and Rhodes turns to him.

"Vision is part-vibranium," he says. "You may be one of the greatest martial artists in the world, Highness, but you just can't measure up to a man with superhuman reflexes who can also change his density so blows don't even hit him. We're not willing to risk you getting hurt. We need fliers and people who are able to fight from further away."

"So you're putting yourself in this fight, Rhodey?" Sam asks, with something like concern tinging his words.

"Absolutely not," Rhodes says, with an almost rueful smile. "I'll stay back, help if it's needed, but I'm keeping my feet firmly on the ground. Tony and I thought you might want to join the fight and help keep the air filled with bullets. We'd also want Clint with his arrows and Wanda to help."

"But Vision is vulnerable to electricity, and I have electricity built into my suit!" Natasha exclaims, taking over the table.

"You are not fighting him again, Tasha," Clint says sternly. "You'd have to get too close, and he's not going to break any more of your bones or do anything worse. And that vulnerability is temporary anyway." He sighs, and adds, "I hate to admit it, but Tony's plan is pretty stellar. Four of us go up against him, the rest form a perimeter and stop him getting away."

"Then what?" Sam asks, leaning over the table, slipping into strategy and the formality of a team meeting. "If we even can subdue him, what do we do when he's down? Are we supposed to reason with him?"

There's a long moment of tense silence, until T'Challa clears his throat and says, "It would appear that the natural solution is to dispatch Vision. We may not be able to undo the brainwashing, and we can't risk him remaining under Ross' power."

"So you're suggesting we kill him?" Scott asks, and people shift uncomfortably around the table, glancing at each other. T'Challa looks up, eyes hard, and gives a single, sincere nod.

"No!" The shout makes them start, with the explosion of sound that echoes through the conference room, and Wanda is on her feet, anger flaring in her eyes and her lower lip trembling with barely suppressed emotion. "You can't kill him!"

"He's too dangerous, kiddo," Clint says gently. "I've been up against him twice now, and he's capable of taking us all down in a minute. That's not the kind of power anyone needs the government having."

"When we examine our options, it does seem to be the best one," Rhodes says, almost reluctantly, and Stark nods. "I'm sure he'd rather have us take him out than spend his whole life taking orders from the government and thinking that all of his former friends betrayed him."

"You don't get to tell me what he'd want!" Wanda shouts, tears in her eyes, and Scott drops his gaze from her crumpling face. "I won't let you murder him!"

"Wanda, he's under orders to murder us," Sam chimes in, as if explaining some complicated scientific theory. "If we can't reason with him, it would be better for everyone if we take him out. Prisons can be broken out of, but one thing no one can escape is death."

She seems to collapse backwards into her chair, curling in on herself like a child hiding from the world, the tears slipping down her cheeks, and the crack in her voice is heartbreaking as she whispers, "You can't."

Steve moves closer to her, offering her a tissue, and his voice is soft and soothing, his eyes bright with understanding, as he says, "I know that you were close to him. But he doesn't remember that. As far as he knows, you're the enemy. He has to be stopped. And we need your help to do it."

Wanda looks utterly stricken at his words, and her voice is so deathly quiet as she says, "I won't be the one to deal the blow. If your plan is killing him, I want no part of it." Standing so fast it topples her chair, she turns on her heel and walks out of the room, hair flying. But the door doesn't close fast enough to muffle a desperate sob, and as the door swings shut glances are guiltily exchanged when silence returns.

Natasha stands too, eyes flashing with fury, and says, "You should all be ashamed of yourselves. We all know how she feels about him, and you all sit there and tell her he needs to die and you expect her to help."

"You know what's about to happen, Nat," Steve says. "Vision will be back, trying even harder than before to kill us, and I'm not about to sit back and let that happen. Wanda will come around."

"You are such a hypocrite, Rogers," she snaps. "You went out of your way to save your best friend, who was under seventy years of severe brainwashing. We spent two years trying to track Barnes down. You dragged all of us into this mess while you were defending him, and you won't let Wanda even try to save the man she loves. Screw you." Glancing around the room, meeting everyone's gaze, she says, "Screw all of you. I'm going to go sit with Wanda and let her talk this through. When you're all ready to be compassionate people, you can come and apologise."

She walks out too, in a fantastically pointed flip of her hair, and an awkward silence descends. For a very long moment, the seven of them are quiet, staring at the table, pondering the situation, feeling guilty for not being more understanding. Then Stark clears his throat, and says, "So, since when did she confirm that she's in love with him?"

* * *

Death. Cold. Cloying. The warmth ripped from him, his body falling to the ground, the world turning to black. Red spirals through his subconscious, and fear grips him in its icy fist, holding him in darkness. He flies from Wakanda, leaving the jungle behind, and his mind spins with green eyes and an outstretched hand gloved in spiralling red.

The girl. Her powers made him surrender, running away from the fight he was winning. The Scarlet Witch. One of the most powerful enhanced people out there, certainly the most powerful of the fugitives, and therefore the one he most needs to bring to justice. Maximoff. A criminal, a murderer, the one who took his mind away and left him a helpless patient in Ross' facility.

 _Wanda_.

His mind moves when he sees her, his chest tightens with feeling, and thought he knows it's just seeing the one who took his memories once again something within him whispers that it's so much more. She meant something to him, before the Accords broke the Avengers apart. Splintered pieces of memory float through his subconscious, a simple melody on a piano, the hum of a guitar, stars in the night sky and music spiralling through a room lit by candles.

_Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts have left the dance floor, faces both set in frozen smiles for the cameras, and Ms. Romanoff disappears to dance with Captain Rogers once again, the two of them a perfect couple at the centre of the floor._

_A hand loops through the crook of his elbow, and she smiles up at him, her lipstick slightly smudged, her hair beginning to collapse from its intricate style, lighter tendrils falling over her eyes and around her face. "Dance with me?" she asks softly, and moves into him, hand curving over his shoulder, head tilted up to meet his gaze and smile so sweetly._

_His hand fits naturally to her waist, the heat from her skin spilling through her dress, and he draws her closer as they move slowly around the floor, neither quite sure how to dance beyond the swaying. She tries to hide a yawn in his chest, and he lifts her chin to look down at her, the dark shadows beneath her eyes beginning to break through her make-up. "Would you like me to contact the car?" he asks, and she shakes her head, weaving her fingers tighter through his._

" _I'm perfectly happy right here."_

He crashes through the door of Ross' facility in turmoil, finding the man waiting for him with a frown creasing his forehead and a quiet blaze of anger in his eyes. "You failed," he says darkly. "I expected them brought in or dead, Vision. They are neither, and Stark and Rhodes have stolen suits and weapons from the Joint Counter Terrorism Centre, presumably to join the fugitives. They have made a mockery of the Accords and, worse, a joke of you. You are the most powerful Avenger, and yet here you are empty-handed."

"I apologise, sir, they fought back more tenaciously than I had expected," Vision says, bowing his head in deference to Ross. "The witch was able to manipulate me into leaving the country. I will return while they are still weak and take them all into custody."

"That's not good enough!" Ross roars, the sheer volume of the words overwhelming. "You failed once when your orders were to bring them in! If they can scare you away, they're clearly even more dangerous than I previously thought. I want them dead - all of them."

 


	5. hope is all we have

**A/N:** Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter out! I've gotten very swept up in a social life since I've gone back to uni, and it's severely cutting into writing time. Thank you to everyone for your comments, and hopefully you'll enjoy the payoff from all the angst as much as you've enjoyed everything to this point! :)

* * *

The sun rises on a sleepless night, wildlife chittering in the trees rising dark against the milky blue sky, and Steve stands in the corridor and stares at Wanda's door in silence, head and heart tussling. Natasha's insult still stings, but he knows why she said it - Bucky has always been his weakest point, the one way anyone could get to him. Everyone has someone that can do that to them. For Natasha, it's Clint; for Scott, it's his daughter; for Tony, it used to be Pepper; and for Wanda, it's clearly Vision. Still, she must see things their way. The Winter Soldier was a force to be reckoned with, but nothing compared to the single most powerful Avenger under the sole control of the US Secretary of State.

He knocks, words turning themselves over in his mind, but it's Natasha who answers, her eyes flashing, bloodshot with lack of sleep and the shadows beneath them darker. She closes the door behind her, stepping into Steve's space and looking up at him in a way that makes him feel small as an insect, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. "Have you come to apologise?" she asks, one eyebrow raised severely.

"I..." It takes a moment for him to think, startled by the iciness in Natasha's eyes. "I just want to talk to her. Just discuss what's going on and help her deal with all this. We need her help, Nat."

"Don't you 'Nat' me, Rogers," she snaps, anger flaring in her gaze. "She trusted you to take care of the whole team, you promised we would step back and you would take steps to rebuild trust and friendship with Tony and Rhodey and Vision. Now you're sitting there telling her she has to kill Vision, when you know how she feels about him. She was crying half the night, fell asleep and woke up screaming from a nightmare about killing him. Clint told you how off she was travelling to Berlin after she put him through the floor. If you're her friend in any way, you can't possibly want to see what she'd go through if you force her to murder him."

"You know what the options are here!" Steve says insistently, and she just glares up at him in stony silence. "I don't want to see any of our team dead, but if it comes down to all of us versus Vision then you know what the choice is! Someone has to make it!"

"You didn't care about any of that when you were ignoring the entire world telling you to stop and saving Bucky," Natasha says coldly, leaving him in helpless silence. "You're not talking to her. Now or in the foreseeable future. Not until you realise you're doing the opposite of good."

She shuts the door quietly rather than slamming it, but the soft click is almost more powerful, seeming to echo throughout the high-ceilinged corridor. Rubbing his fingers in circles over his temples, thoughts twisting and burning, Steve can't help the jolt of animosity when he turns and finds Tony quietly watching the proceedings, looking as sleep-deprived as any of them. "Morning," he says stiffly, and something flickers in Tony's eyes.

"Walk with me," he says, almost an order, and Steve does. The palace is eerily silent in the early morning, T'Challa's guards standing still at their posts, so many trainees thrown into the ring after Vision's attack. "I was offered access to their labs, sneak a look at their tech. It's way beyond anything we've ever made, even something half as good would revolutionise the world."

"They're very hospitable here," Steve says, not sure of what else he can say.

"Obviously, taking in seven fugitives," Tony retorts, an edge to his voice, and for a moment anger surges in Steve's gut. But the tension fades as the doors to the laboratory swish open, and Tony's face takes on an expression of almost child-like wonderment, eyes swivelling every which way to take in the softly humming instruments on highly-polished surfaces, everything glowing a gentle blue against the purity of the white walls.

The prototype of the new prosthetic T'Challa had his team begin working on for Bucky is propped up on one table, a shell constructed of dark vibranium that has a far more subtle shine to it than the silver of old. Tony leans down to examine it, running a curious fingertip over the almost invisible links around the elbow, and says, "Is this to-"

"To replace the one you blew off Bucky's shoulder, yes," Steve snaps, and immediately kicks himself for letting the anger rise, the link between them so fragile and liable to break at the slightest provocation. "It's vibranium, much lighter than any other metal and more flexible. Ideal for prosthetics."

"And where is your boy, Rogers?" Tony asks, moving away from the arm and deliberately avoiding Steve's gaze. "Haven't seen him skulking around."

"When we got here he decided he wanted to go back into cryo, and T'Challa arranged a private room for him just off the medical suite," Steve answers stiffly, the weight of the decision still resting heavily on his heart, and Tony truly appears surprised. "They're researching ways to get the HYDRA brainwashing out of his head. Until then, he's decided staying under is best for everyone."

Tapping a short rhythm across a table, Tony clears his throat and says, "So what are we going to do about Wanda's freakout last night? Natasha's not going to talk to any of us until we apologise. But you know it has to happen too, don't you."

"I wish it didn't," Steve says, brooding over the knowledge of what is inevitable, knowing what it will do to the people he cares about. "Vision is our friend. Was. But I don't see what else we can do if we can't reason with him. There's not a prison that can hold him, and Wanda's the only one of us who can really subdue him. We need her to fight with us."

Not looking at him, something unknowable in his voice, almost wistful, Tony says, "I didn't realise how deep her feelings for him went. I mean, I saw some moments at Christmas, but I thought he maybe just had a little crush. That's what kids are like - which he is, for all intents and purposes. I never really considered that she might feel the same way."

After a short moment of silence, thinking on the year of their new team and all the friendships and bonds between the six of them, Steve says, "Rhodey and Nat used to joke about it, but that's all I thought it was. A joke between them, teasing them about it. They've always been closer to each other than anyone else, Wanda confides in him and there was this way he always looked at her when she wasn't looking. And I guess now we have our answer."

"So what do we do?" Tony asks insistently, and Steve shrugs, not knowing what to say next.

* * *

Rain hammers against the windows, droplets chasing each other in elegant arcs down the long stretch of perfectly polished glass, and Natasha tops up yet another mug of tea, returning to Wanda's side and watching her staring at the surface of her hot chocolate, the marshmallows now melted into the drink. "You should try and get some sleep," she says softly, and Wanda looks up at her with reddened eyes and cheeks still wet with tearstains.

"I can't." She only says those two words, but the break in her voice clenches like a fist around Natasha's heart, and she puts an arm around the younger woman, protectiveness surging up in her chest as Wanda leans against her, trusting her for company in her sadness.

A knock comes at the door, and Natasha squeezes Wanda's hand reassuringly and calls out, "I told you to go away, Steve!"

The door opens, and it's Clint that peers inside, balancing a tray of coffee mugs and plates bearing breakfast between his hands. "Before you slam the door in my face too, I'm sorry for what I said in the meeting," he says, setting the tray gently down on the nightstand and picking up the mug of golden-brown coffee, standing cautiously a few feet away from the bed. "Look, it's difficult not to be scared of what we're facing. Our friend has been turned into a weapon and we know how powerful he is. But I shouldn't have been such a dick about it." Taking a long sip of coffee to hold the silence, he breathes in sharply and says, "Fact is, if I'd listened to my friends when they told me who to kill then Tasha wouldn't be here right now."

"And your life would be less rich for it," Natasha teases, and the hint of a smile pulls at the corner of Wanda's mouth, and Clint folds himself onto the bed with them, taking a plate of bacon and eggs and setting it between his crossed legs.

"That's how you two met?" Wanda asks softly, cradling her mug between her hands, unpolished nails gleaming in the light.

"I haven't told you this story?" Clint asks, and she shakes her head. "In our old days, when Tasha worked for the KGB and I was an assassin for SHIELD, the boss assigned me to kill the legendary Black Widow. Spent six months tracking her movements across Eastern Europe and finally found her in the Spanish border. We played cat and mouse around the place for a while before we confronted each other and I couldn't take the shot. So I brought her back to SHIELD instead."

"That's always an option," Natasha muses, thinking aloud. "If we can't initially break the brainwashing, we can bring Vision here and hold him until we find a way. Steve broke Bucky's brainwashing, and I broke Clint's, and you'll be be able to break Vision's."

"Cognitive recalibration usually works," Clint chimes in, and Natasha laughs softly, while Wanda looks down at the surface of her gently steaming coffee, biting anxiously at her lip.

"I never told him," she says softly, and Natasha sets a hand over hers, squeezing her fingers gently. "I wasn't sure, and even when I was it was never the right time. If this goes wrong, I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what if."

"You'll get to tell him," Clint says, a sincere promise, and the three of them silently finish their coffees as the rain falls outside.

* * *

_Dust from the ashes of Sokovia rains down into the sea, and Rogers steps aside to allow him to come to rest in the midst of the crowds of civilians, anxious SHIELD personnel attending to the injured. When he's sure he's settled on the deck of the lifeboat, his attentions can focus entirely on the young woman he still holds tightly, her head resting on his chest and her eyes blank, staring straight ahead. As he sets her down, she appears to be only going through the motions, and he crouches down to her side, taking a blanket from the stack nearby and pulling it around her shoulders as he sees SHIELD personnel do for the citizens of Sokovia._

" _Where is he?" Maximoff asks, her voice so quiet it almost disappears into the hum of the engines. "Where is my brother?"_

" _His body is on another lifeboat with Agent Barton," he tells her, and further tears slip down her cheeks, running clean lines through the layers of dirt and dust greying her face._

" _Take me there," she says through emotion that thickens her voice and constricts her words, making as if she might stand up but cannot remember how, legs weak._

" _I do not think that would be wise, Ms. Maximoff," he says, and she appears to fold in on herself like paper, a broken person. He can only stay at her side as they fly from the scenes of destruction and her sobs calm until she is quiet and leaning gently against his shoulder._

The final practice dummy goes up in flames, and Vision stands in the centre of the room, smoke curling towards the ceiling, breathing heavily, mind in turmoil. Each day another piece of some moment long past floats back to him, and he remembers the way the witch smiled in the morning and the smell of her hair and the necklace she never removed. She took his mind away from him, erased the life he lived, and yet she left enough memories of herself to confuse and distract him from the mission at hand. Some part of him, human and vulnerable, wishes that there was more to these memories, sets his heart aflutter when he thinks of her, but he must remain vigilant. She is a criminal.

A harsh beep, and the light above the door glows blue, admitting Ross in his crisp suit and tie, with a chillingly satisfied smile on his face. "Good to see you are continuing your training," he says, gaze moving over the smoking, melted remains of the training dummies. "I have a mission for you. You are still expected to complete your mission to kill the fugitives, but my men have discovered the hideout of an enhanced person we have only known as a terror to a small town in Ohio. The locals call him Hellfire, but his true name is James. You will capture him and bring him in for questioning. He may have links to other underground enhanced persons."

"Sir, shouldn't I be focusing on the defeat of the fugitives?" Vision asks, memories of the betrayal in the eyes of the seven flickering through his mind.

Ross' face darkens, and he says, "You have failed me once, and it won't happen again. Capturing Hellfire will set us on the path of tracking down groups of enhanced persons which exist outside of the Avengers and the few working in government organisations. This is not only about the fugitives. And after you do this, you will return to Wakanda and see to each of them."

The memory of Romanoff crashing to the ground and lying still flickers across Vision's mind, but he pushes it back and stands tall before Ross, no tremor in his voice as he says, "Of course, sir."

And when he drags Hellfire into the facility, seeing the bruise growing around his left eye and the gleam of terrifying pride in Ross' eyes as he directs his associates to chain the unconscious man into a chair for interrogation, he tries to swallow the feeling akin to nausea that swells up in his gut. He has to follow the orders of the man who saved him, taught him how to defeat the criminals whose conflict led to his memory loss, still believes in him despite his failure.

But when he stands alone and hears the terror of a small town pleading that he doesn't know anything, through the longest night of his existence, Vision can't help but remember the expression on Maximoff's face as she planted terrors in his mind.

* * *

Tension hangs heavy over the kitchen as Scott turns the volume up another notch on the radio, and returns to his seat next to Sam as Ross' familiar voice rings through the speakers, the oily charm setting the hairs on the back of Rhodey's neck to standing. "We are thrilled to announce that we have tracked down one of many enhanced fugitives on US soil, and are currently interviewing him in order to ascertain the whereabouts of any associates he may have. I encourage everyone to remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity to your local authorities. I am grateful to the Strategic Homeland Intelligence and Logistics Division whose enhanced assets have committed to the Sokovia Accords and ask for their help to find others who may be hiding among us."

"Think interviewing is a euphemism for brainwashing?" Clint comments sourly, and Tony hits the switch off, eyes dark with anger. "How can Fury support this?"

"It's not Fury, it's that new director who's turned SHIELD back into a government organisation," Natasha says, feet up on an empty chair, fingers tapping a distracted rhythm on the table. "I'd bet my life that Fury doesn't like this, but he's still maintaining the guise that he's dead. All he can do is try and work the scene from the shadows, through Maria. And the new director won't trust her, she's too closely tied to us and to the old SHIELD."

"We're dead in the water here if we don't have allies," Steve points out. "If we can't rely on Fury or Maria to help us, we may as well stay here and not try to fight this."

"We have to fight!" Sam protests, wincing slightly as he leans further over the table between them all. "We give up, Ross wins and Vision stays his weapon. If we can't fight through allies, maybe we leave and do this ourselves."

"The second we get caught outside of Wakanda we have a hundred and seventeen countries hunting us down," Rhodey points out, to a petulant glare from Sam. "None of them are going to hesitate in shooting on sight. Even having allies inside SHIELD can help us, no matter whether the new director trusts them or not. Does anyone really trust anyone these days?"

"Highness, you're very quiet," Scott says, and T'Challa looks up from his papers, calm and collected. "You're the only one of us Ross still respects, what do you think?"

Setting the briefing aside, T'Challa sits straighter in his high-backed chair and says, "Taking your fight to the US won't accomplish anything, you'll all simply end up thrown in prison or worse. It's your word against Ross' on the fact that he tortured and brainwashed Vision, and he can simply say that Vision's commitment to the Accords led him into this. You need to find a way to prove what he did. He's taken another prisoner, and perhaps this could be the key."

"So, we find a way to prove that Ross is torturing James Emmerson to find out where other people like him are hiding, and we use that as a jumping off point," Tony says, and T'Challa nods. "But there's still the small matter of Vision to contend with. Obviously Ross is having him complete smaller missions for the time being-"

"Giving us time to heal, it's a blessing in disguise," Steve points out, and Tony gives a nod that can't be called respectful but is, at least, polite.

"But he'll still be back for us, probably not to take us alive," he continues. "We have time for training, if that's what people want. But we don't have a solution."

"I might." The small voice has them all glance up to Wanda in the corner of the room, silent for the entire proceedings. Though the shadows beneath her eyes are darker from lack of sleep, there's a determination in her expression. "Vizh will be back, but I doubt that Ross really knows what he's doing when it comes to brainwashing. This is manipulation, him telling false stories about us to turn Vizh against us. But I can take the memories and give them back to him. All I need is for everyone to stay out of the way and cover me in case things turn bad." Standing at the head of the table, her gaze moves over each of them and she adds, "But I want your word that you won't try to kill him."

Silence prevails for a very long moment, gazes shifting to the table and the only sound the awkward shuffling of feet. It's Tony who stands, meeting Wanda's coldly angry eyes, and softly says, "We trust your judgement when it comes to Vision, Wanda. If you think that you can bring him back, we won't try to stand in your way."

"Are you sure about this, kid?" Steve asks, clear worry in his expression, and Wanda simply gives him a fierce nod. "But why? How can you trust that you'll be able to undo what Ross has done? Do you really believe that Vision will respond to you that easily?"

Wanda raises her chin defiantly, staring Steve down without a hint of nerves, and says, "That's what happens when you love someone. And not one of you can tell me that you don't believe that."

The meeting breaks up, but when Rhodey moves to start another round of coffee, Steve follows him. "You saw how easily Vision turned to murdering Tony," he says, and Rhodey nods, forcing down the memory as it rises. "I don't want her to do this, Rhodey. She'll get herself killed."

"Some would say the same about you confronting the Winter Soldier," Rhodey points out, and Steve scowls at the thought. "Wanda is more powerful than all of us, we haven't even begun to explore the limits of what she can do. If anyone can bring Vision back, it'll be the woman who loves him. And I'd put money on him returning those feelings." Another, far happier memory rushes into his mind, and he leaves Steve brooding over the coffee machine to approach Sam. "Wilson, I seem to recall a bet made at Christmas hinging on Wanda's feelings about Vision."

"Dammit."

* * *

**From: (540) 393-7732**

**Sir, we've found her. Hiding out in LA, avoiding all this talk of hunting down enhanced persons. What's our move? - M**

**From: (634) 982-9772**

**Get to her, fast. Take May. Bring her in before Ross finds her. - C**

"I will ask you one more time, James," Ross says, crouched down in front of the ashen, trembling man handcuffed in his metal chair, hardly seeming the man who terrorised a town filled with people with his powers. "Do you have any associates and do you know their locations?"

"I swear to God, I don't know, I'm an independent kinda guy!" he insists, and Ross nods to Emerson, watching the Inhuman, as he calls himself, yelling through the electric shock that runs through him.

"I'm going to leave you alone with Emerson now, James," he says to the quivering mass of a man. "Perhaps tomorrow you'll be ready to tell me."

Emerson nods in understanding of the arrangement, and Ross turns to leave the room as the switch is flicked once again, James crying out again. But the incomprehensible screams suddenly take shape into words, a frantic yell of, "Her name was Daisy!"

Turning back, Ross asks, "What did you say, Mr. Iain?"

"There was a girl I used to know, worked for SHIELD," James says, at long last defeated. "Her name was Daisy Johnson. But she ran away, something about a boyfriend dying, went rogue. She could make the ground shake."

"Are you telling me, Mr. Ian, that you know the vigilante Quake?" Ross asks, and he nods. "She's been wreaking havoc, crushing buildings and terrifying people. Do you know where she is?"

"Well, people have been going underground since the fuss started after Lagos," James says, sitting up straighter in the chair, the manacles biting into his wrists. "We knew what could start to happen if people were hunting us. Last place I knew, she was heading towards LA, wanted to hide from SHIELD."

Hardly bothering to hide his elation, Ross smiles and says, "Thank you, James, for your cooperation."

Returning to the training room, he finds their asset still training, cape moving with every fluid punch. "Another mission has appeared," he says, and Vision turns to him, the solemn soldier he wanted. "A young woman named Daisy, a former SHIELD operative, who was last predicted to be in LA. Find her. Then you will return to Wakanda and bring down the fugitives."

Vision remains silent for a second, but he nods, gives a simple statement of, "Yes, sir," and leaves the room for his next mission. Alone, Ross lets himself smile. They are gaining the advantage, every minute, and soon the Avengers won't be able to stand in the way.

* * *

Shooting down another target with a jet of red, Wanda reaches for her water bottle and jumps out of her skin when Scott appears from nowhere, barely swallowing an impressive string of expletives both English and Sokovian. "I told you to stop doing that!" she shouts.

"Gotta keep practicing, I need to be able to grow and shrink on a dime to fight properly," Scott says, and she rolls her eyes fondly at him.

"I almost wish you hadn't recovered from those bruises," Natasha says sweetly, and Wanda laughs at Scott's offended expression.

Looking around the room, it's almost astounding the recovery her teammates have made, Clint shooting arrows, Steve and T'Challa sparring, Sam soaring around the top of the training room with Rhodey. That they've been allowed the time to recover is suspicious, with most days bringing another new bulletin with statement from Ross on the capture of another enhanced person. He must be gearing up for an ultimate attack.

Tony lands suddenly next to her, faceplate lifting for him to fix her with a long, searching look. "You okay, kid?" he asks, and she shrugs at him. "You know, we believe in you. You can do this."

Before she can reply, one of the younger palace guards races into the room, shouting, "Your Highness, sighting of the Vision at the borders! He's coming here! Very fast!"

Wanda meets Tony's eyes, and she sees the momentary flicker of fear there, her own heart cold as her stomach sinks like lead, knowing what she's about to do. Then the faceplate lowers, hiding the tension of Tony's jaw behind red and gold, and he almost cheerfully quips, "Showtime."

"Alright!" comes Steve's shout, and they all turn their attention to the team captain. "We need to keep this fight away from the palace and civilians. Wanda, Tony, Sam and Clint, you're the offense team. Everyone else, we're defending the palace and on standby should any of those four fall."

"Beyond the grounds of the palace there is only jungle behind us, uninhabited by humans," T'Challa says, and at a firm nod from Tony Wanda kicks off from the ground and follows him out towards the darkness of the trees.

She stumbles on her landing, nerves making her clumsy, but Tony nods at her once again, affirming his belief in her, and she stands straight. Sam first drops Clint at her side, then lands himself, saying, "The other six are on foot, but they'll catch up to us. They're warning the palace we're about to fight, then forming a perimeter."

There's no quirk of humour to any face as they prepare to fight, Clint nocking an arrow, weapons built into Tony's suit whirring loudly, red flowing around Wanda's fingertips as a shadow passes through the sky, Vision landing in front of them. "Secretary Ross has sent me here to offer you one last chance," he says, and Wanda's heart quickens with hope when she notices there isn't that same almost inhuman coldness to his voice. There's something like doubt that flickers in his eyes, but she refrains from reaching out for his thoughts yet. "Sign the Accords."

"Never," Sam snaps, almost a snarl, and Vision's face grows hard, though his gaze flickers over their faces, perhaps nervous, and Wanda curls her fingers into fists, the light that flickers around her hands growing brighter.

Wings snapping out, Sam takes off a second before Vision reaches him, soaring into the sky with a storm of bullets that phase through Vision as he changes his density faster than blinking. The rattling echoes through the trees, almost unbearably loud, but Wanda stands her ground and watches the indecision in Vision's body language. He leaves Sam be, silhouetted darkly against the clouds, and turns instead to Clint, firing arrows that don't appear to do any damage.

Vision reaches Clint before Wanda can, hitting him hard into the trees, but Clint gets up rather than staying down, seeming only a little disorientated from the punch. "Little help!" he shouts, and Tony grabs him out of the way, taking him into the sky too.

Sharp beams of light from the gem dart across the sky, Vision firing at the three men and ignoring Wanda entirely as she approaches him quietly. Despite close calls, and Clint swearing loudly at Tony for not getting him out of the way fast enough, all three make it through the fire, and Wanda reaches out for Vision's mind, pushing down the swell of grief that rises in her chest at the mind that used to be so familiar to her so different now, filled with darkness and lies.

"You!" Caught up in replacing Ross' spinning with the memory she still holds in her heart of the two of them at the Stark Industries gala, Wanda is caught so off-guard that Vision sends her flying with a punch to the side of her head, the landing knocking the wind out of her. "You did this! You made me forget! You left yourself in my mind to confuse me!"

The gem begins to glow brightly, and Wanda instinctively raises her hands to protect herself. The bubble of scarlet wells around her, deflecting Vision's blast and sending a tree bursting into flames, and even he appears shocked, standing still long enough for Clint to send him to his knees with a blow from his staff. "Leave her alone!" he snaps, and is snatched up by Sam before Vision can turn around.

Another shot catches the edge of Sam's right wing, and he falters, beginning to sink. A cry of fear that Wanda latterly realises comes from her own lips echoes through the jungle, and she reaches out to encase the two men in her powers, lowering them to the ground at a gentle rate until Sam folds his wings in. "Go," she says, and both of them shake their heads firmly.

A shout from Vision as one of Tony's shots sends a metal net spiralling towards him, pinning him to the ground and holding him with sharp bolts of electricity, and Tony lands next to them. Hearing Vision struggling in the bindings, knowing he won't be held for long, Wanda urgently continues, "No, all of you. Get back to the palace, help the others. I can handle this. I'll send up a signal when I'm done."

"Wanda, he will kill you," Clint says, face ashen with worry.

"I have to believe that he won't," she says, and turns to Tony, her eyes pleading with him. "Go. No one else needs to die in this fight."

Tony looks down at her momentarily, then says, "You heard the lady. Wilson, Barton, with me. Protecting civilians is our priority."

Wanda watches the three men leave her with a heavy heart, and turns back to see Vision struggling against the electricity. Leaning down to him, she shoots the links through with an easy bolt of scarlet, and steps back as he struggles to his feet. "Let's make this a fair fight," she says softly. "Just you and me. The two of us, the way it's always been."

"Ms. Maximoff, please, don't pretend you wish to make this a fair fight," Vision says, the gem beginning to glow again, the brightness growing strong with every word he says. "You are the one who took my memories."

He shoots at her, and her scarlet shield slams down, the two of them struggling for the greater power in the fight. Hot tears spring to Wanda's eyes, seeing Vision's face twisted with such hatred while doubt seems to surge in his eyes, a gaze that became so familiar to her, that voice that used to have her heart lighten with a mere word telling lies, his mind poisoned by Ross.

"My orders are to kill." Vision's voice is so cold, and she falters for a second. Only a second, but long enough for him to fly into her, knocking her to the ground, poised for the final blow. "You should not have stood in the way of the Accords. You could have been part of the new world order."

Her hand shakes violently, every breath seeming to steal more cold into her chest, her heart like ice, but her powers flow the same despite everything, and she lets every happy memory she has of him rise to the surface as she reaches for him. "Not without you," she says, and forces her way into his mind, planting every moment of them there.

Vision staggers away from her, allowing her to sit up, feeling for the first time the blood running from her nose at using so much of her power to combat the blasts from the gem, more than she's ever used before. Exhaustion has her limbs leaden, the adrenaline of the fight having taken so much out of her, but she watches him collapse into a crumpled ball on the jungle floor.

* * *

Daisy screams out in desperate hope than someone might here, throwing herself at the walls and the door, scraping her ragged nails over stone and metal in the hopes of finding some flaw to take advantage of. "You think I didn't try that?" James asks dully, slumped against the wall and picking at what measly rations they were offered for sustenance. "Keep trying that, and they'll drag you into the chair and shock you again."

"I can handle it," she snaps, and James rolls his eyes. "Shut up and help me. Ross can't leave us hanging in here until we talk. It's illegal."

"He's the Secretary of State," James points out, much to her chagrin. "He can do whatever he likes as long as no one catches him."

She throws herself at the door again, and the hatch slides open, the dark eyes of their guard peering inside. "You better stop doing that, Quake, or I'll have Ross slam you back in that chair," he says.

"My name is Daisy!" she shouts, and throws herself into the door again, just to make a point. The guard slams the hatch shut, and James lets out a low whistle.

"You've done it now," he remarks, and she's about to turn her fury on him when they both hear the scuffle outside, shouting and punching and bodies slamming into walls. She backs away from the door as it rattles on its hinges.

But it opens to a familiar face smiling at her, and the guards unconscious along the corridor, and she throws herself into May's arms, burying her face in her shoulder. "You found me," she whispers, and May holds her tighter, almost motherly.

"It was a team effort," she says, letting Daisy go, and beckoning James to his feet. "Come on, you'll want to see this."

In the centre of the hideout, all concrete walls and steel, stand her former teammates, her heart swelling with the warmth of affection when she sees them. Coulson is speaking, watched so closely by Fitz and Simmons, while Mack stands over a handcuffed Ross and his associates. "Thaddeus Ross, on behalf of SHIELD you are under arrest for the kidnap and torture of the Vision, James Ian and Daisy Johnson, and the attempted murders of Tony Stark, James Rhodes, Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff and King T'Challa of Wakanda. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law."

The lump in Daisy's throat bursts when Coulson turns to see her and gives her a smile of such familial affection that tears are suddenly coursing down her face, leaving her unable to even think of stopping them. He hugs her tightly, letting her sob into his shoulder, and strokes her hair until she finally begins to calm. "C'mon, Daisy," he says softly. "Let's get you home."

* * *

Wiping the blood from her face in dark trails across her sleeves, Wanda crawls across the damp jungle floor, too exhausted to think of standing, and sets a hand over Vision's clenched fist grasping the dirt, seeing the contrast of her skin against his with the same affection she always has. "Vizh," she says, so softly, uncertain, and he looks up at her with his eyes clear.

"Wanda," he breathes, and she knows it's him, her Vision, back with them, and tears prickle hotly behind her eyes even as her smile grows. His fingers shake as he reaches out and smudges the blood from just above her mouth, gazing at her in poorly concealed horror, and wonder she hasn't seen since the day he burst out of Ultron's cradle and into her life. "You're hurt."

"It's fine," she says softly, catching his hand in hers as he makes to lower it back to the ground. "Are you okay?"

"I-" He hesitates, looking around them, and blinks at her. "I believe I would like to sleep." And his eyes fall closed, he crumples from sitting upright onto the ground, his hand still in hers, and she sits back on her haunches and looks down at him, memorising the planes of his face.

"Holy shit," comes a breath behind her, and she looks back to find Scott behind her, the trees rustling loudly with the rest of the team obviously behind her. "You knocked him out?! Way to go!"

"He fell asleep," she murmurs, and Steve and Clint simultaneously crash into the clearing, talking over each other in their effort to find out if she's okay, kneeling down next to her and fussing, but she barely hears them, caught up in knowing that Vision is with them again, the man she fell in love with, and she was able to bring him back. Her hope was never futile.

They return to the palace in a group, Vision's unconscious form floating on a glowing web of scarlet tendrils, and she takes him straight to the medical suite, waving away the doctors who surge forward to dab the dried blood from her face and smooth cream onto the bruise rapidly darkening over the side of her face where she was hit. She levitates Vision into one of the empty beds, and takes the seat as his side. The team leave in groups, back to their rooms, and as Tony does so he smiles and closes the door behind him with a soft snap.

"I'll be right here when you wake up," Wanda promises Vision softly, wishing that he was awake for their reunion, to truly be with her. Leaning over, she presses a soft kiss to his forehead, and for the first time whispers, "I love you."


	6. wherever i'm with you

**A/N:** So sorry for the length of time between these updates! I should really learn not to leave all academic work to the last minute! I hope you enjoy this update nonetheless! I also have to apologise for the use of creative license in the legalities of all this, but it's very difficult to find information on these hypothetical superhuman happenings, and I chose to go with mostly making it up. Hopefully any inaccuracies don't detract from the story! :)

* * *

 

Outside the quiet of the palace, the sky darkens from grey-blue to purple beyond the windows, twisting the shapes of the trees into sinister shadows, and the corridors quieten. Guards move in their perfect formations, older night guards replacing those who pace the walls during the day, and they don't speak. Doors remain closed, the silence pressing down over the entire building, no one quite knowing what to say.

Despite the late hour, when Clint gives up on ever finding a peaceful sleep after hours of tossing and turning he winds through the intricate corridors to the medical suite and finds both Tony and Natasha sitting outside, curled over steaming mugs of tea and very deliberately avoiding each other's gaze. "Hey," he says softly, and is rewarded with Natasha's familiar sleepy smile and a nod from Tony, leaning down to join them on the floor. "Couldn't sleep either?"

"I never heard Wanda go to her room," Natasha explains, leaning quite naturally against Clint's shoulder. "Tony was here when I arrived. Steve's sleeping on the mattress in Bucky's room again."

"He's not a hundred percent confident that Vision won't attack when he wakes up," Tony says quietly. "Neither am I. Couldn't leave Wanda alone in there with no back-up."

"I think she proved today she doesn't need back-up," Clint remarks, and Tony gives a slight smile, something like pride shining behind his eyes. "I didn't know she was that powerful."

"Don't think she did either," Tony remarks. "The look on her face when she deflected a blast from the gem. Didn't you ever test the extent of either of their powers, Nat?"

"Well, we did throw them in the deep end a little bit, dragging in two people totally new to the hero game with Steve and I, and Sam and Rhodey both ex-military," Natasha says with a slight quirk of amusement to the corner of her mouth. "There wasn't ever really time to sit back and take a few days to figure out what they could do. We were surprised enough when Wanda walked into a training session one day suddenly able to fly."

"Imagine being able to deflect blasts from an infinity stone," Clint muses. "Thor will be interested to hear that if he ever comes our way again."

"He'd drag her off to Asgard to join his ragtag bunch of immortal misfits before we could blink," Tony quips, and Natasha lets out a soft breath of something like a laugh. Smiling at the achievement, Tony stands with a slight groan and stretches, peering through the narrow window into the medical suite. "God. She looks so young. And so sad."

"Much happier with Vizh back," Natasha says, and Clint nods furiously along with her, remembering yet again the shadow of a girl curled in the backseat as he drove through the night to Germany, burdened with guilt. "She really does care about him."

"And him about her," Tony observes, and they fall back into silence.

* * *

As his mind slowly lights with colour once more, picking out particular thoughts gold in the unending darkness, the first thing he becomes aware of is the pain. Not piercing agony, but a dull ache that seems to have a hold over his entire body, curled like some malevolent creature at the base of his spine and spiralling upwards, pounding a beat like music through his head. An involuntary groan comes out with his next breath, and there's a sudden touch against his skin, warm fingers over his forehead, and a voice above him. "Don't try to move."

Her voice is so familiar, winding through his memories, and he opens his eyes to her pale face swimming in the bright lights above them, the soft hum of electricity permeating through the room like a fog. She blinks down at him, and so slowly her lips curve into a smile. "Hi," she breathes, so softly, and he becomes aware of her fingers tangled with his, squeezing reassuringly at his hand curled against the sheets. "How are you feeling?"

He swallows, wetting his uncomfortably dry mouth and throat, and blinks up again at her, seeing that one side of her face is darkened not by the shadows, but by a vivid bruise, and there's a dark cut where her lip has split, and bloodstains surrounding her nose and spotting the sharply-folded collar of her shirt. "You're hurt," he murmurs, and she raises a hand to her face as if she'd forgotten about it, wincing as she prods gently at the bruise that seems to grow darker with every passing moment, grotesquely coloured against her otherwise pale skin.

"It's nothing," she says reassuringly, scraping dried blood from her face with a nail and pinning her smile back into place, eyes very bright. "Just an accident in training. Barely even hurts, I promise. Are you hurt? You've been unconscious for a long time."

Night presses in at the narrow windows of the room as he looks around him, easing himself upright despite Wanda's nervous gasps, her hands darting out to support him, lingering a second longer than he thinks quite necessary on his shoulder. "Vizh?" she says again, pressing, and hearing her say his name again jolts him more than he expected, his heart skipping a beat and his breath catching in his throat.

"I'm fine, Wanda," he finally answers, and her smile grows when he says her name, her eyes glittering with happiness. "It hurts a little, but nothing that hasn't happened before. There are gaps in my memory, but I presume those moments will return given time. Perhaps it would be better if you were to see a doctor now. What on earth happened in training that you're so hurt?"

The glitter of joy in her eyes suddenly changes into a gleam of tears, and he wishes he could take back the words that have upset her, whatever memories they brought to the surface, not wishing to make her cry. But she doesn't move away from him to brood, or snap at him. Instead she throws her arms around him, out of the chair she was hunched in, burying her face in his neck and letting out a long, shuddering breath as she presses herself hard into him. His arms go around her in return seemingly without a signal, pulling her close enough to feel the pressure of the stone on her necklace pushing into his chest, and he bows his head against her hair and lets the silence hold.

"I was so scared," she breathes at long last, the first to break the silence, moving back just a little, still holding tightly to him. Tears scar her cheeks silver, and he sees how red her eyes are, almost worse on the side without the ugly bruise, and how pale and small she seems. She reminds him uncomfortably of the days and weeks and months following the fight in Sokovia, when she drifted around first Stark Tower then the Avengers compound like a shadow, so quiet and miserable and faded at the edges. Then, it was her brother's death that put the darkness to her eyes and the sadness in her soul - it's an uncomfortable thought that it is now his fault she is so shadowed and pale. But after a moment she sits back, dabbing at her wet eyes, and slides her fingers between his, her voice soft and sweet as she says, "I missed you."

He takes a moment to simply look at her, the familiar features that wove through his mind in quiet moments after the fight in Leipzig, the familiar green of her eyes and the dark sheen of her hair and the way her features soften when they are alone together. He remembers the compound feeling irrevocably changed when he first returned there, the rooms echoing like tunnels, ceilings soaring high enough to dizzy and even the air changed, tinged with grief. "I missed you too," he says, and she smiles, squeezing his hand in hers.

A gentle knock comes on the door, and they turn to see one of Wakanda's doctors joining them, a woman with her greying hair pulled back into a tight bun and a sweetness about her. "Ms. Maximoff, I have to insist you let me at least clean you up a bit," she says. "That bruise is a nasty one, you'll have to wait a while for it to fade completely. And that split lip needs stitches. I can bring my tools into here if you'd rather stay with your friend." Vision isn't sure if he's imagining it or if her lip curls slightly over the words, noticing the way Wanda twitches a little before smoothing her face into a respectful smile.

"That would be great, Doctor Idowu, thank you," she says, and her face settles into a scowl the moment the doctor leaves the room. "She's been checking in every hour, trying to take me back into the main rooms and stitch me up. I didn't want to leave you."

"Perhaps you should've gone with her, Wanda," he says, trying to ignore the warm glow of pleasure blooming in his chest at her words, how lightly she says it. "That bruise truly is awful. What happened in training for that to happen? The worst I've ever seen was Steve's broken nose after that training course when the obstacles iced over."

"Just a mishap," she says, glossing over the issue, and leans closer to him, so close he can feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek. "T'Challa helps us keep busy, sometimes to our peril. But you don't have to worry, I feel fine." She meets his eyes, and smiles again, breathing, "On top of the world."

Doctor Idowu returns after a moment with her medical kit, smoothing a pale green salve onto the bruise darkening Wanda's face, tutting as she cleans grit and dried blood out of her split lip. Wanda's hand stays wrapped tightly around Vision's, her nails digging into his palm as Doctor Idowu stitches her lip up. Cutting the thread, the doctor gives Wanda a stern look and says, "You'll have a little scar there, Ms. Maximoff, and you'll have to wait up to two weeks for it to heal completely. No kissing for you for a while." Wanda tilts her head forward, hiding behind her hair, spots of pink blooming bright high on her cheeks. "Can I tell your friends outside they can come in? They've been waiting there for hours."

Wanda nods, shuffles her chair closer to Vision, and a moment later the door crashes open to Stark and Barton and Romanoff, all shadowed beneath their eyes and clothed in oversized pyjamas. Barton rushes immediately to Wanda's side, fussing over her, Romanoff hangs back with her gaze flickering between them, but Stark hesitantly sits down next to Vision on the bed, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Good to see you, Vision," he says, voice strained, eyes darting with worry, and when Vision turns to look at him he seems to wince, almost appearing scared.

"It's good to see you too, Tony," Vision says after a long moment of silence, and the fear slides away in the wake of a smile.

* * *

Yawning his way out of bed, not bothering to change out of his rumpled pyjamas or fix the birds nest his hair has become overnight - perhaps some poetic expression of the entangled mess of his thoughts that afforded him a restless and frequently disturbed sleep - Scott pads barefoot into the common area to see the being he's only known as the ultimate weapon of the team he was fighting sitting on the edge of the couch, Clint's usual seat, clothed in the full-body white they all were in their first few days in the country. Wanda is seated in her usual armchair, but her body is pressed hard into the arm, as if every part of her is drawn towards him like a magnet.

"Nice to see someone got a little sleep," Sam says lightly, perched on the arm of the couch with his legs stretched over Natasha, fingers wrapped tightly around a mug of coffee. Looking around the room, everyone seems to have some kind of caffeinated beverage in their hands, drooping with exhaustion, heavily shadowed beneath their eyes, sparing nervous glances for Wanda every few seconds, so frequently they may not even realise they're doing it.

"We're just waiting for T'Challa, he's in a meeting with his advisors," Rhodes says, and beckons Scott over, moving further away from the main group and gesturing to him to lean down closer. Voice lowered to barely more than a whisper, he explains, "Wakanda is not happy about Vision being here after he killed twelve people busting in the first time. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"But we're international criminals," Scott hisses, and Rhodes gives a grim sort of smile.

"So is the guy who pushed forward the legislation making us criminals," he points out. "T'Challa's got a shit hot local lawyer, but he might not be able to persuade anyone to help us." Lowering his voice even further, gaze darting to the protective way Wanda is holding Vision's hand in hers, apparently heedless of everyone watching and Clint and Stark whispering between themselves, he adds, "Vision has a lot of gaps in his memory. Namely no idea of exactly how bad the things he did under Ross' control were. So we're to keep our mouths shut, and Wanda will tell him when everything calms down."

"No memory of breaking our bones and throwing people into walls?" Scott asks incredulously, and Rhodes shakes his head. "No memory of killing twelve people?" Another shake, and Scott lets out a low whistle. "Damn. Ross really did a number on the poor guy."

Rhodes nods sagely and returns to Stark's side, where the man himself is hunched over his phone with his thumbs flying over the screen. Tucking his hands into his sleeves, feeling almost muted with nerves, Scott moves to the only available slice of couch, squashing himself in next to Vision and giving a tight smile. "Don't think we've ever been introduced," he says politely, and holds out an unpleasantly nervously sweaty hand. "Scott Lang. Um, Ant Man."

"Vision," his apparent new teammate replies, shaking his hand with a surprisingly gentle grip. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lang."

"Please just call me Scott." Vision nods, but his expression doesn't seem to change until Wanda gives his hand a gentle squeeze, and he gives her a smile of incomparable sweetness. It takes every ounce of willpower Scott has to force down the instinctive wolf whistle, but he does exchange a long glance and pointedly raised eyebrows with Clint, whose mouth curls up with a smirk in one corner.

"Wanda?" Scott asks, raising his voice just a little so everyone can hear. "Can we swap seats? I think I slept funny last night, and the armchair helps my back." He fights to keep his expression neutral, hearing a slight hint of a snicker from Stark's direction, and pretends not to notice the colour creeping into Wanda's cheeks as she nods silently at him and vacates the armchair. Scott settles into it with an exaggerated sigh that gets him a pointedly quelling look from Natasha, but the slightly heightened heart rate from the sheer scariness of his teammate pales in comparison to how sweet it is to see Wanda sitting next to the man they all know she's in love with, even if she won't curl up close to him in everyone else's presence.

At long last, just as Steve has started agitatedly pacing and Sam is draining the rapidly cooling dregs of a fourth coffee, T'Challa returns from his private rooms with a woman at his side, dressed neatly and professionally with her hair drawn back, and takes a seat in the last available armchair, looking so regal that Scott feels ashamed for still being in his pyjamas. "I would like you all to meet my lawyer, Ms. Masozi," he says, and polite greetings are exchanged. "I apologise for my lateness to this meeting, but there are a lot of legal issues blocking our path to seeing Ross brought to justice. Namely, the fact that you are all considered international criminals, and though I was awarded extradition I can now be charged with harbouring fugitives and aiding in your escape from the Raft."

"Well when you put it like that this all sounds impossible!" Scott exclaims, but no one laughs. Confronted by the truth of their situation, it sounds like they'll have to stay in Wakanda forever while Ross walks free - although perhaps the two Inhumans he kidnapped might be able to provide evidence to send him down.

"However, we have been in contact with your allies Nicholas Fury and Maria Hill," Ms. Masozi says, no twitch of a smile on her face, standing behind T'Challa's chair with the most serious face Scott's seen in a while. "They are both willing to help, and have set their resources to tracking down your former teammate Bruce Banner in order to strengthen the case against Ross. But we must have you all acquitted of your crimes before any of you can testify against Ross in court. And it would be desirable to find at least one witness without a criminal record as a character witness so no prosecution lawyers can exploit any previous as unreliability. Ms. Hill informed us that she knows of a lawyer who will represent you when you return to the US, so there is no need to worry about that."

A moment of silence, while they all absorb and process the extensive information, and Natasha nods, stepping into the leadership role while Steve continues to pace. "We're grateful for your help. Is there anything we can do to help us all be acquitted so we can go home?"

"Obviously we won't be taking this to trial, since we want to get you all home and preparing for the case against Ross as soon as possible," Ms. Masozi says, and Scott notices the slight edge to her voice, further evidence of the Wakandans' discomfort with Vision being offered their king's hospitality after murdering twelve of their own. "We will reach out through your allies to a trustworthy judge who we can offer hospitality to and, hopefully, will acquit you all of the crimes the Sokovia Accords say you have committed. I will act as your lawyer for this procedure, which should be short."

"Unfortunately, I will not be able to return to the US with you," T'Challa says, and a sense of mourning settles over the room. They've grown used to the king's presence, his calm nature and solemnity and the occasional humour that breaks through his regal facade. It's difficult to think of returning to the US and leaving the palace behind. "I presume you will return to the Avengers compound?"

"I left it locked down when Rhodey and I headed to Berlin, so it should've been left untouched," Stark says, gazes swivelling to him. "Ross' goons probably broke in there when he found out we'd run off though. Hopefully they've not torn the place up."

"Can you put us up at Stark Tower if the compound won't work?" Steve asks abruptly, and Stark looks up sharply before nodding. "I know that some of you have families you're anxious to see, but we need to stick together through this. The trial is going to be a personal struggle for a lot of us."

"We're going to need a really good lawyer to win against a former Secretary of State," Clint observes, and people's faces melt into worry. "Exactly how good is this guy Maria says she knows?"

"He came to her highly recommended from another high-level SHIELD personnel," Ms. Masozi says, and Clint appears to relax, just a little. "She will instigate the introduction once you are back in the US. For now, I would like to see each of you alone, go over the crimes you all stand accused of and explain the acquittal process. Ms. Maximoff, we'll start with you."

They all watch Wanda reluctantly move away from Vision, straightening her skirt and running a hand through her hair, the bruise across the entire right-hand side of her face glowing grotesquely dark, and follow their lawyer into one of T'Challa's private meeting rooms. Vision leaves when the door closes behind the two women, vanishing into the depths of the palace, and silence holds for a long moment, everyone looking down at their laps and not speaking.

"So that's Wanda's boyfriend," Scott finally says, just to break the tension. And all he receives for his trouble is incredulous looks and expressively rolled eyes.

* * *

Wanda only escapes from the dark-panelled meeting room and the quiet intensity of Ms. Masozi's gaze and her relentlessly probing questions in the late afternoon, the sky shot through with gold as the sun sinks below the dark heights of the jungle. Chatter and laughter drifts into the corridors from the kitchen, the scent of something cooking winding through the air, but she veers away from the rest of the team, even though she knows they're worried for her. She reaches out for a familiar presence, as gold-edged as the scant clouds drifting across the sunset sky, and follows the tread of her feet into the forest. The gloom beneath the thick cover of the treetops is almost oppressive, and she curls her fingers to create a small glowing ball of red, just enough to see by.

Vision is alone between the densely-packed tree trunks, hunched over on a log, and he doesn't look up to her until she sits next to him and sets a hand on his knee, giving him a reassuring smile when he turns to her. "You should be with the team," she says softly, and he looks away. "Vizh. They've been worried about you too. We worked so hard to get you back with us."

"They're nervous around me now," Vision says, voice very dull and muted, and her heart hurts for him. "It hasn't been like this since right after Sokovia. The way Mr. Lang looked at me..."

"Scott's a sweetheart, this is just the first time he's met you outside of Leipzig," she says, knowing that Scott is of course nervous around Vision after receiving a bruised spine in their first confrontation. But Vision doesn't remember that, and she can't tell him. Not yet. Not when everything about their future is still so up in the air. "Look, they were much angrier with Tony after everything that happened, but he's been accepted into the fold. Scott was mad at Natasha when Steve brought her along, but he got over that. We're a team again."

"Perhaps you've forgotten," Vision says, sounding so sad that she moves closer to him, their sides pressed together. "We're not the Avengers anymore. The Accords and Ross made sure of that."

It's sometimes easy to forget that she's not the only one who found a family she desperately needed in their team. But she remembers how pleased Vision was when people stopped referring to him as a robot, even under their breath, and the way he smiled when Natasha slipped out with 'Vizh' over Christmas, though Wanda herself had been using the nickname for weeks. "We're still important to each other, Vizh," she reassures him, taking his hand. "Natasha and Steve and Sam and Rhodey still care about you. I do too." The words rise in her chest, glowing hot, but they stick in her throat like shards of glass, and she can't say it, no matter how easily it slips from her lips with everyone but him. "And who cares if the old Avengers are dead. We'll make a new team. Scott would join up in a heartbeat. We might even get T'Challa if he can step away from his duties."

Vision looks away from her, and for a moment she wonders if he's going to cry. Then he breathes in sharply, and smiles at her. "I have missed your reassurances, Wanda," he says, and she can't help beaming, leaning into him with a soft sigh of contentment. "What did Ms. Masozi say?"

"Nothing we didn't already know," she says evasively, not wanting to talk about it. "But also that it shouldn't be too difficult to get an acquittal with the right judge. Ross was the driving force behind the Accords and has now been arrested for kidnap, torture and attempted murder. Whispers about a manslaughter charge too. But soon we get to leave this country."

"You sound pleased," Vision observes. "Don't you like it here?"

"It's a beautiful country, and T'Challa has been incredibly kind to us, risking his title and a criminal charge to protect us, and he's encouraged other people to treat us with respect," she says. "But the palace isn't my home the way the compound was. It didn't have you." The words slip out before she can swallow them back, and she ducks her head, feeling herself flushing red.

It becomes Vision's turn to take her hand, very tentative, but she looks up very aware that the unbruised side of her face is blotched red with embarrassment to his familiar eyes gazing at her, undeniably softened. "I must admit that the compound didn't feel like home without you there either," he says, and she swallows the gasp that wants to escape, her heart skipping in her chest. She chooses to simply return the shy smile he gives her, and they stay seated on the log until it becomes too dark to even see her hand in front of her face without the aid of another scarlet orb glowing in her palm.

They return to the palace to find the night guards already on duty, older members of the Wakandan guard who regard Wanda and her teammates with suspicion even if they're under orders from T'Challa to treat them with respect. The oldest lost his son to Vision's first attack, and Wanda keeps her head down as they pass him, not wanting to draw attention to herself or appear to be intruding on his grieving. The noise in the kitchen has died down, but when she slides the door open she finds Natasha and Steve bent over a phone, and a familiar voice chiming through the speakers. "...but he's honestly an excellent lawyer. He'll defend and he won't judge or ask more questions than he needs to."

"You can't just tell us to trust some lawyer from the worst part of Hell's Kitchen without any ties to a practice, Maria," Steve says, rubbing at his temples in small circular motions, clearly taking on the weight of everyone's problems as usual. "We've all been around the block too many times to trust that easily."

"Then take my word for it, Steve, you trust me," Maria says sharply, and Wanda swallows a laugh at the look on Steve's face and Natasha turning to wink at her. "Sharon sat in on a case he ran a few weeks ago, doing a favour for an old friend, and he was excellent. We have recordings to prove it. You need someone understanding, not some overpriced big shot. I know you're funded by Stark, but even Tony has his limits."

"Any word on tracking down Bruce?" Natasha asks, picking at a loose thread on the couch.

"Last we heard he was somewhere in the southern hemisphere, being alone," Maria says. "We've sent scouts looking. Australia is supposed to be nice this time of year. We're looking into Helen Cho too, as a character witness. Not many people who can vouch for Vision can also say they don't have a criminal record."

"Don't remind us," Natasha jokes, and leaves Steve to continue berating Maria for refusing to offer more information on their future lawyer to cross the room. "How are you guys holding up? T'Challa's lawyer is pretty intense."

"Probably a good thing," Wanda observes. "We need this over quickly so we can go home and start building a case. I, for one, can't wait to see the compound again."

Natasha gives her a quietly wistful look, then glances up at Vision. There's a flicker of fear in her eyes, and Wanda once again sees the haunting memory of Vision throwing her through a treadmill and her still body on the floor of the gym flash across her mind, but Natasha blinks and gives a warm smile. "There are hundreds of spare rooms, Vizh, if you want to sleep. Or there's the library, it's full of amazing books, some of them are ancient."

"I think that sounds most intriguing," Vision says, and Natasha nods. "Wanda, if you need to find me during the night, I will be in the library. I will see you in the morning."

She watches him leave with a soft smile on her lips, and Natasha mercifully waits until Vision is thoroughly out of earshot to tease, "Love in the jungle, huh?"

"We just talked, Nat," she says, but she can't seem to wipe the smile from her face, even though she is telling the truth.

"Well, don't wait too long," she says with a nudge. "Can't have everyone knowing who you're in love with except the man himself."

* * *

Mercifully, the process of getting each of them acquitted is as short as they were promised, though privately Tony feels there was a lot more hope that realism to that statement. The radio in the kitchen is murmuring constantly throughout the process, bringing them updates on the arrest of Thaddeus Ross and the ripples it sends through the world - President Ellis scrambling to replace his Secretary of State, the director of SHIELD making a statement, the UN expressing their profound regret that the driving force behind the Sokovia Accords took a turn down such a dark path, the confirmation of the location of all of the former Avengers and their quest to return to the US and stand against Ross in court. James Ian, the first Inhuman Ross took prisoner, gives interviews and talks about the torture he was subjected to, turning Tony's stomach when he thinks that Vision went through that too, though he still appears not to remember specifics. Daisy Johnson is quiet, apparently returned to the arms of SHIELD, protected by the director who doesn't seem so bad after all.

There's something very satisfying about the heady thud of the gavel when they're each given their acquittal, and able to leave the palace behind. It's more bittersweet than Tony expected, saying goodbye to their temporary home, the place where they were able to reconcile their differences. Mostly. T'Challa sees them off with his advisors, wishing them luck in the case and expressing his regret that he won't be able to be there in person. Steve is very quiet as they pack their few possessions and load them into the quinjet, but it makes sense. Without a solution to his little brainwashing problem, Barnes is to be left behind in Wakanda, under T'Challa's solemn promise that he will be protected. The last night of their stay, Steve stays awake next to the cryotube, and in the morning has red-rimmed eyes that none of them mention, trying to be tactful.

Wanda sits as close to Vision as she has been since he woke up in the medical suite, her head on his shoulder as the quinjet rises above the trees under Rhodey's capable hands, and Tony watches them wistfully. Even if she hasn't told him, as she insists is true, clearly there's something more than friendship going on. He only has to look at Vision to see it, the way his face softens around her and the smile he gives her.

Most of the occupants of the quinjet are asleep after five hours of their journey, but Tony creeps to the front where Natasha and Clint now occupy the pilot and co-pilot seats, giving Rhodey a chance to sleep. "Why is it always the three of us?" he quips, and Natasha rewards him with a slight twitch of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "Look, Barton, I know Rogers said we had to stay together, but we can stop off at your farmhouse if you want. Let you see your kids."

"I called Laura before we left, T'Challa let me use his study for privacy," Clint says, voice thickening a little with emotion. "She gets it, completely. Wanda and Vision stayed with us while the Sokovia clean-up was going on, and the kids thought he was great. I'll go back for a day or two, after we meet this lawyer of Maria's. What did she say his name was?"

"Didn't," Tony says, rolling his eyes. "It's like she doesn't trust us not to look him up and contact him ourselves."

"I think she has a good reason for that," Natasha observes, and Clint chuckles quietly, obviously trying to avoid waking any of the other occupants of the jet.

Turning back, Tony looks around at his teammates in their various positions, all asleep. Scott is spread out over two seats, snoring softly. Steve sleeps sitting up, reading to leap straight into action, a slight frown on his face. Rhodey is on the one makeshift bed, face hidden in the pillow. Sam is curled into a ball in a corner, his back to the controls. Wanda is asleep with her head on Vision's chest where he's leaning back against the walls, his head bowed forward over her hair. Whether he's actually asleep or not is impossible to tell, but he's certainly content and unmoving. "I can't believe she hasn't said anything to him yet," he whispers, and Clint and Natasha both follow his gaze to the couple - or not a couple, whatever.

"Difficult time to find the right moment to say I love you," Natasha says, a faraway look in her eyes. "And you know Vision doesn't remember what he did. I doubt she wants to tell him how she feels then follow it up with 'by the way, see this huge bruise across my face? That was you. And it gets worse.'"

"Not what I'd want to hear," Clint says grimly, and Tony almost wants to laugh. "And she can't tell him what happened then follow it up with 'but it's okay, because I love you.' That's just crass."

Eventually, Tony's eyes start itching with tiredness so relentlessly he can't ignore it, and he finds a patch of floor and a blanket and curls up there, willing his sleep to be dreamless. Words wind their way through his dreams, crackling voices on the radio bulletins from the past few weeks, but mostly he sees the faces of his teammates - his family. When he wakes, Sam is at the controls, looking refreshed from his sleep, and is bringing the quinjet in to land.

Sitting up, Tony claps his hands loudly and shouts, "Avengers, this is your wake-up call!" The slip of the tongue occurs to him a moment later, sending a stab of pain through his heart, but no one else calls him out on it. Natasha and Clint stir slowly, curled around each other the way he's certain they've done on any number of their missions, Steve startles awake with his eyes darting everywhere until he realises where he is, and Vision looks up so quickly Tony concludes he probably wasn't sleeping. But Wanda doesn't stir until Vision gives her a gentle shake, and she hides her face in his chest for a moment before realising what she's doing and jerking upright, patches of embarrassed red blotching her neck.

The sight of the compound might bring tears to Tony's eyes, if he wasn't good at suppressing his emotions. But it's so familiar after Wakanda, the same doors and FRIDAY politely asking for their voice identification. There's a moment of amusement in scanning Scott through the security system, and then they're inside, everything undisturbed and eerily silent. Even the chessboard is still in the last game Vision was playing.

"Welcome home," Steve says, and there's clearly a lump in his throat too. They set their few belongings down, and the business of sorting out rooms for Scott and Clint takes a short while.

While they're still sorting their belongings back into their correct places, FRIDAY's voice chimes through the compound, making them all start at the unfamiliarity of it. "Maria Hill on Line 1, boss."

"Put her through," Tony says, and waits for the click before saying, "Maria, how nice to hear from you. We've only just gotten home."

"I'm bringing your lawyer to meet you all," Maria announces. "We're about ten minutes away. Tell FRIDAY to let me through and get the team together. I promise, you'll like him."

When their former handler does arrive, all in black as usual but obviously deliberately dressed to be ready for anything after her return to SHIELD, she does so with a young man behind her, formally dressed with red-lensed sunglasses covering his eyes and a cane in one hand. Tony bites his lip to avoid asking the question their new lawyer must be constantly asked, and Maria smiles approvingly as she places a hand on the stranger's arm. "Nice to see you all back on US soil, relatively unscathed," she says. "Now, you'll need one hell of a lawyer to go against Ross, and luckily I happen to know one. Avengers, Matt Murdock. Matt Murdock, Avengers."


	7. the ones who love us

**A/N:** What can I say about the length of the wait here except oops? I meant to update much much earlier than this, but I ended up very busy at the end of the semester and then had plenty to be getting on with over the last week with Christmas. But I'm back, and I sincerely hope you all enjoy this update and it was worth the wait! :)

* * *

The table in their meeting room is just long enough to hold everyone, and Sam carries the tray of coffees through from the kitchen very slowly, trying to hide the fact that his hands are shaking. Being back on US soil and at home in the compound is definitely better than the fear that clung to the back of his mind every minute in Wakanda, constantly scared of being discovered and sent back to the Raft, and subsequently discovering Ross' plot to kill them all - but meeting the lawyer handpicked for them by SHIELD makes it terrifying real that they are trying to go up against a former Secretary of State in court while their public standing is in the gutter. The lawyer in question sits at Maria's side, sunglasses covered his unseeing eyes and an air of sombreness surrounding him, and says a quiet, "Thank you," when Sam sets a mug down in front of him.

Rhodey is the first to break the silence that descends thick and tense over the table, asking, "So you didn't get into any trouble for helping us with the break-in in Berlin, Maria?"

"Went underground afterwards with Fury, and thanks to your hacking no one could get a hook on who it was that stole from them, no matter how much Everett Ross stamped his feet and insisted that it must've been Tony Stark and James Rhodes who vanished immediately afterwards," Maria answers, not without a certain smirk to the corner of her mouth, "Director Mace did a lot to stop his efforts to accuse any of you of the burglary. Made sure the compound got locked down too, put it into everyone's heads that there was no way to really prove you'd both left. Everyone under a certain clearance level thought you'd just locked down to avoid the conflict until news came out that you were all in Wakanda after Ross' arrest."

"And where does Fury factor into all this?" Tony asks, a question that has preyed on many minds over the last few years, ever since the former director faked his own death and disappeared only to resurface in Sokovia.

"Well, you know Fury, he has eyes and ears everywhere," Maria says ruefully. "Formally, he's no longer with SHIELD. Neither was I until Director Mace called me after Leipzig and begged me to come back. But Nick Fury has old friends still in SHIELD, and he's above clearance levels. He was part of a small group helping you out through this, making sure we got Peter and May Parker to a safe place and offering advice. I don't think I could've kept such a cool head every time Ross was in the offices liaising with SHIELD personnel who came under the jurisdiction of the Accords if Fury hadn't been in the shadows working towards his downfall."

"How is our formerly esteemed friend?" Clint asks, lip curling over the word, stirring sugar into his coffee slightly more violently than necessary. "Reporting has been pretty biased in favour of the grand humanitarian everyone thought he was."

"Not much we can do about that, public opinion of enhanced individuals is at an all time low," Maria says darkly. "Even SHIELD has been getting hate mail since our director in an Inhuman. James Ian came back to us a few days ago, needed protection, and is currently camped out in the medical bay. Ross himself was held in our detention cell, but to avoid being accused of bias we had him transferred to a federal prison. He's stewing under twenty-four hour guard until a trial date is set, and he's already meeting with a lawyer. I did some digging - his lawyer is Stuart Anstieg, very expensive but lacking charm. He's been known to go to any lengths necessary to win cases. Including bending the law."

"Then we will have to go further," Murdock says, and all eyes turn to him, taking a sip of his coffee before placing a hand on the files Maria brought with her. "You all have an intriguing history, and public support for your case is very low. However, we are able to pull on James Ian and Daisy Johnson to talk about their ordeals, and drum up some sympathy. SHIELD's resources will undoubtedly be invaluable in tracking down witnesses to speak of Ross' crimes, including past horrors. But, at this time, the evidence against Ross is thin, and with a charming lawyer and a positive public image he holds the ace in this game."

"Then why even take our case?" Steve snaps, ignoring the quelling look Maria shoots him. "If you think we're going to lose, why try? Why not just let us all go back to the Raft, or worse?"

Though Murdock is blind, he turns his head towards the sound of Steve's voice, and Sam unsettlingly feels like Murdock sees a lot more of all of them than he lets on. "Because, Captain Rogers, I believe what you say Ross did," he says. "I've dedicated my career to helping those at a disadvantage stand up to bullies. It will be a genuine pleasure to win this case for you."

* * *

The business of the compound with the nine of them happily cohabiting reminds Scott of his last few months at home, with Luis and Kurt and Dave a permanent part of the furniture in his apartment, and Hank dropping by with new information every day, and Hope picking him up from work despite her complaints. Not to mention seeing Cassie and Maggie and Paxton, all those people who wove together into some kind of family. While he still misses them, despite the messages and occasional phone call he's been able to exchange with them - he couldn't help but cry, just a little, when he heard Cassie's voice for the first time in months, talking quietly to her in the stairwell down to the training room while Clint silently and tactfully hovered, taking him downstairs for a well-earned session against the punching bag after he said his goodbyes - living in the compound has given him a new kind of family.

Still, there's tension. Of course there is, their recent ordeal as a team forged ties in a time of crisis that seem to only just hold up against the numerous words that go unsaid, hanging in the silence at the edges of conversations. Forgiveness will undoubtedly take a long time - he's definitely still angry about his stolen suit, even if it was returned, and being locked up and getting his spine bruised by a brainwashed superhuman who still doesn't remember what he did. And he has far less to be angry about than anyone else living in the compound. But no one pokes at the issues that have been swept under the rug to make way for the upcoming trial against Ross, with their lawyer commuting back and forth between the compound and his home in the worst part of Hell's Kitchen.

"I'm tempted to just tell him to move in here, at least until the trial's over," Stark says one evening, sitting at the kitchen island opposite Scott and making an unnecessary amount of noise rustling the paper as he skims yet another article about Ross' arrest. "Saves him having to get cabs back and forth all the time."

"He gets private SHIELD cars escorting him here with an armed driver, Tony, there are far worse ways to get around," Clint points out, tearing off a cold slice of Natasha's half-eaten pizza, pushed away in favour of going to work off some latent aggression in the gym after seeing Ross' not guilty plea plastered all over the news.

"Still, the guy seems a bit lost and lonely," Stark muses, mouth twitching in disgust at the full-colour, glossy photograph of Ross at a children's hospital that accompanies the vilifying article. "Oh, for God's sake. Do you think we can ask SHIELD to bribe someone to write something that isn't completely biased in Ross' favour?"

"Don't think Director Mace would go for that," Clint says ruefully.

"You never know." Turning another page to the, of course, far smaller paragraph covering Ross' crimes after all the words praising his work against international security threats, Stark scoffs loudly. "Honestly, you'd think journalists would be all over a politician doing something this crazy. Torture, attempted murder, manslaughter - they should be begging for our side of the story. Hellfire was firing off quotes all over the place when he first got the limelight."

"Dodgy politicians are old news at this point," Sam says darkly, taking another can of beer from the box balanced at the end of the island and cracking it open. "Besides, you forget that a lot of people were in support of the Accords, or at least what they were supposed to be. Hell, even Steve would've signed if it wasn't for all the suspicion surrounding them and the fact that they sent Ross to present them to us. Should've known Steve wouldn't trust him, after the way he treated Bruce."

"I wouldn't trust the guy for acting in his own interests instead of looking after his kid," Clint agrees. "There's an idea. Any chance of contacting Betty Ross, Tony? Maybe through Bruce, if SHIELD ever tracks him down."

"C'mon, Barton, we can't ask Bruce to call up his ex because her dad went batshit crazy and nearly pulled off a supervillain-level plan," Stark says. "But we'll keep it in mind to talk to Murdock about that. Lawyers are always pulling amazing last minute witnesses out of their asses, right?"

"Clearly retiring from the team did not suit you, if you were watching that many courtroom dramas," Sam retorts, and Scott winces at the cheekiness, wondering if this will be the time that the taut tension snaps. But Stark grins, lets out a faint chuckle, and holds out a hand for a beer, that Sam tosses to him with one corner of his mouth curled in a smirk and a devilish gleam in his eyes.

* * *

As the sun rises outside, painting the sky in stripes of orange and pink and illuminating the pale buds of leaves slowly emerging as spring warms the air and softens the ground, Bruce awakes peacefully, gazing up at the soothing white of his slanted ceiling, rolling over to note the time flashing in red on the clock balanced precariously atop a stack of novels, all well-loved with yellowing pages and disintegrating covers. It's still an hour before his alarm, but he rolls out of bed anyway, rolling up the blinds and opening the window over his bed to admire the dawn and appreciate the refreshing air rolling in from the ocean.

Breakfast for the bachelor who lives alone is usually toast, with the scrapings of a jar of marmalade haphazardly spread over the top - he'll have to head into the city to shop soon - followed by a quiet meditation, guided by a CD that helps to keep his mind from wandering. He is calm and collected, and can dress in loose clothes to combat the Australian heat and walk barefoot down to the water's edge, kicking the sand and watching the roll of the waves.

A couple walking their dog pass him hand-in-hand, living their ordinary lives just as he is. The dog, a black and tan terrier with thick fur filled with sand, barks at his feet and nudges him, prompting frantic apologies from the owners. The young woman, a pretty brunette, squints at him for a second as if she recognises his face, but almost immediately shakes it off and rejoins her girlfriend. He's found it's a common experience, for people to almost think of who he is but decide he simply looks like the man who was once an Avenger and a hero to all. Who would ever think of Bruce Banner retiring to the depths of Australia and becoming the sort of person who meditates every morning and paints watercolours and reads epic fantasy novels and only goes further into the city when he has to? After all, the point of coming here was to disappear.

Briefly, he thinks of the life he left behind. Though he does his best to ignore the outside world, Tony blew that away when he chanced a message to Bruce's old SHIELD email and tried to persuade him to return to the States, begging him to help in some conflict with Steve. Bruce only said no, and has tried even harder to avoid the news since. His life is quiet, but he likes it. He removed himself from the situation, and that's what he needed. The Avengers didn't need him.

Skipping a stone across the water and watching it sink, he breathes in one last breath of the ocean air, tasting the salt, and starts walking back up to the tiny bungalow, set back from the road that winds leisurely alongside the beach. It won't take long to get in and out of the city, and he'll be able to finish his latest book before night falls. Perhaps he could take a look in the city for some job to support him once his back SHIELD pay finally dwindles to nothing.

But upon opening the door to his home, he finds two women patiently sitting in his front room, waiting for him. Both are clothed all in black, one appearing around Bruce's age and the other younger. The younger wears a yellowing bruise across one side of her face and a scar bisecting one eyebrow, and the sad eyes of someone who has recently suffered. The older looks up first, her face set in a stoic mask, and says, "Doctor Banner. We were beginning to wonder if we'd come to the wrong place."

"There's no need for pleasantries," Bruce says, an edge to his voice. "Take me in. Experiment. Hell, maybe you'll find something I don't know. A way to kill me."

"You misunderstand our purpose here, Doctor Banner," she says, and stands, pulling a leather wallet from her pocket and flashing an ID at him. "I'm Agent Melinda May. Agent Daisy Johnson and I are here on behalf of SHIELD."

"Oh, even worse," Bruce says with a dark chuckle. "Haven't you heard, Agent May? I'm done with the hero business. No more saving the world. Don't you have the real Avengers to ask to deal with whatever supervillain is threatening certain death this week?"

"Not anymore," Johnson says, and his gaze snaps to her as she stands. May moves closer to her, protective, and he takes a short moment to wonder on their relationship. "The Avengers have been disbanded by the Sokovia Accords, Doctor. Formally, they no longer exist."

"Still, the people do. Ask them." And a sudden chilling thought occurs, almost making Bruce's knees buckle, and he asks, "They are alive, aren't they? You're not here to tell me some supervillain killed them and I'm the only one left?"

"Relax, Doctor Banner, all of your former teammates are alive," May says, and he's surprised by how intense the rush of relief is. After over a year alone, he thought his ties to the team might have faded in their strength. "However, we are here because they recently came very close to being murdered by someone who isn't super, but is still a villain. An old enemy of yours - Thaddeus Ross, your ex-fiancé's father."

Even the allusion to Betty clenches Bruce's heart in a painful vice, even so many years later. May simply continues, "Following the Sokovia Accords, your former teammates fought, and four ended up in the Raft. Captain Rogers and Romanoff broke them out, and their ally King T'Challa of Wakanda took them to his home country. When Stark and Rhodes chose not to share their suspicions with Ross, he grew angry enough to brainwash the Vision through electrical torture into believing Ross' lies, and used your former teammate as a tool to attempt to kill those others who refused to fall in line. Though there was an incident, and twelve lives were lost, the Vision's brainwashing was broken, and Ross' kidnapping of others, including Agent Johnson, helped SHIELD to gather enough evidence for an arrest. Now we want you to come with us, and lend your testimony against Ross in the court case."

"Why should I?" Bruce hears himself ask, the words sharp and cold. "I've moved on from the Avengers. There are plenty of them to testify against Ross, people who know the Vision a lot better than I do."

"But only you can tell the court that Ross has experimented before," May says, and the shock that she knows is enough to silence Bruce. "Emil Blonsky, Doctor Banner. And you can't tell me that you don't miss your teammates, even if you don't miss the superhero life."

"You can't leave the Hulk behind, Bruce," Johnson says softly, and Bruce winces, feeling the presence that he's fought so hard to keep suppressed for the last year unfurling in the depths of his being, rumbling with anger. "He's part of you. Like my powers are part of me. You don't have to do anything except talk. And for that, you get to go home."

Both women help Bruce pack his few belongings onto their quinjet, the SHIELD emblem emblazoned over the side, and he sits down in silence, watching May at the controls. Johnson sits next to him, raising a hand to touch the bruise on her face as if she thinks he won't notice, and quietly asks, "Have you missed them?"

Glancing out of the window at the small life he made, a peaceful bubble he's leaving to descend right back into the world of heroes and villain, Bruce wistfully answers, "More than anything."

* * *

Sitting at the breakfast bar with her strong cup of coffee and a half-eaten bowl of midday muesli - Tony and Rhodey only left fifteen minutes ago to go shopping, after a number of delays for people to add extra things to the list - Natasha watches Wanda and Vision playing chess, a familiar sight with new depth to it after finally getting confirmation of Wanda's feelings for him. Now she notices the slight flush in Wanda's cheeks whenever Vision looks at her for just a little too long, and the affection in his words when he patiently explains to her again where the pieces can move.

It would be lying to say she's not a little jealous. The compound is quieter this weekend, with Scott and Clint both home with their families, and right now she's alone with the almost-couple - Steve is shut up in the office talking to T'Challa, Sam is visiting the SHIELD offices, Tony and Rhodey are out and Matt is spending the weekend on strategising alone. Her life has never leant itself to maintaining relationships, and watching the young love blossoming makes her wistful for everything circumstances made her miss out on. But, watching Vision lace his fingers between Wanda's to move her queen, and the way she looks at him, and they let their hands linger together for a moment longer than friends would, her heart warms and she can't help a smile into her coffee. Most predominantly, she's happy for her teammate and friend - the relationship has been a year in the making, after all, and Wanda has been through so much tragedy since she became an Avenger alone. She deserves Vision's honest and unwavering love.

Her phone ringing breaks the contented silence, and she scrambles to snatch it up and leave the room, letting the balcony door swing shut behind her and looking out over the compound's ground as she answers. "Hello?"

"Hi, I hope this isn't a bad time," comes a familiar voice, though one she hasn't heard for months. "I was left a message from this number asking me to call back for more information. This is Doctor Helen Cho."

"Helen, it's Natasha!" Helen makes a thrilled sound at the other end of the line, and Natasha smiles into the phone. "How are you? Where have you been during all this?"

"SHIELD sent me out of the way as soon as the Accords were announced," she answers, the derisiveness in her tone making Natasha smile. "I'm in London, researching with Doctor Selvig and his associates. SHIELD owns the house he's staying in and the labs, they've put me up here until everything blows over. Is this about the email I had from the SHIELD director? Ross' trial?"

"I'm afraid it's going to be a while before this gets even close to blowing over," Natasha says, leaning on the balcony as she talks. "We need you here, Helen. No one outside of the team knows Vision like you do. Ross' trial date hasn't been set yet. You can stay in the compound. Meet our lawyer. SHIELD will protect you."

"I don't know, Natasha, I only just got settled here," Helen says softly. "Maybe I should stay in London. Out of the way."

"Helen, please, we wouldn't ask if it wasn't important," Natasha pleads, looking through the glass doors to Vision, who Helen helped create and befriended while they were all still nervous, becoming almost a mother figure to him up until SHIELD made her disappear. "Ross' lawyer is definitely the type to say our defences of Vision only count against him because we all have criminal records and shady pasts. You're the only one who can tell everyone that he's nothing like what Ross made him. We can't let Ross get away with this."

"I agree, Natasha, of course I do, but this is a case against the former Secretary of State, he's so powerful," Helen says, sounding desperate and afraid and so torn. "If it goes wrong, he can destroy my career. My life. It's risky."

"He needs you," Natasha insists. "And you know how he feels about Wanda. She's the one who broke the brainwashing. They go down for this, they never get to be happy. He's only just adjusted to being human. Imprisonment would destroy him."

Helen sighs heavily across the line, and Natasha crosses her fingers tightly, hope rising in her chest. "Fine," she says, and Natasha restrains a triumphant noise, grinning to herself. "I'll email SHIELD myself, arrange a flight."

"Thank you, Helen, you have no idea how important you are to the case," Natasha says before the call cuts out, and she clutches the phone to her chest and grins. Their case is coming together, Matt is the one hell of a lawyer Maria promised in their strategy meetings, and for the first time she has some scrap of hope that this might work out.

Leaving Wanda and Vision continuing their chess game in flirtatiously tense silence, she goes to the office and knocks gently on the door, waiting for the invitation before walking in and finding Steve sitting at the desk, brooding, the house phone back on the hook. "How was T'Challa?" she asks softly.

"Fine, after we left he held a grand funeral for the twelve guards who died when Vision attacked us, it helped mend fences with everyone who was pissed that he gave Vision his temporary protection," Steve answers dully. "Wished us luck again, says he'll be watching the coverage. Bucky is still asleep in cryo, they're keeping him safe. No cure yet, but the doctors are still trying."

Unsure of what to say to comfort him, Natasha puts a hand on his shoulder and says, "Helen called. She's been in London with Doctor Selvig, but she's coming back to act as a character witness in the case. I offered her a room here if she wants."

"Director Mace called too," Steve says, and that gets Natasha's attention. They've only heard from the director secondhand, from Maria. He's never personally reached out to them. "They tracked Bruce down in Australia, and two of his agents picked him up last night our time. Mace had just finished debriefing him, and he's being escorted here." He smiles briefly, and says, "This place is going to get pretty crowded. Especially if Tony goes through with his threats to ask Matt to move in until the trial's over."

Letting out a breath of a laugh, Natasha lays her head briefly on his shoulder, his arm coming around her and squeezing reassuringly. "How did it come to this?" she asks softly. "It's only been seventeen months since Sokovia, but everything's changed."

"I don't know," Steve says, equally softly. "All we can do is what we do every time."

"Put our lives back together and try to be happy," she finishes for him, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I suppose I better rally everyone together for Bruce's homecoming. He might freak out when he sees this place."

"Infinitely better than the tower," Steve quips.

"Don't let Tony hear you say that," she retorts, and he finally gives in with a full grin, following her out of the office and into the common area.

Though Sam rushed back from SHIELD as soon as Steve called with the news, Tony and Rhodey still haven't returned from the city when the armoured SHIELD car pulls up outside, and Bruce climbs out with small suitcase in hand, looking up at the compound in wonder. Steve steps forward first, offering a hand out to their former teammate and smiling welcomingly. "Good to have you back, Bruce."

"Just wish it was under better circumstances," Bruce says, and shakes Steve's hand. "Where is everyone?"

"Tony and Rhodey are out shopping, they'll be sorry they weren't here to welcome you," Steve explains. "Clint and Scott are home with their families for the weekend. They should be back by tomorrow morning, to continue meetings with our lawyer."

"But no business talk today," Sam cuts in, stepping forward to shake Bruce's hand too. "Do you want the grand tour?" Looking over Bruce's shoulder to the shadowy figure behind the tinted windows, he says, "Ask your escort in for coffee. It's a long drive from SHIELD headquarters."

When the agent climbs out of the car, memories from years past slam into Natasha's mind, and she hears herself exclaim, "Agent May?!" before she's aware of thinking it. Every eyes turns to her, and May smiles.

"Nice to see you, Natasha," she says, and Natasha beams back, glancing at Wanda's questioning eyes and smiling to herself.

"Agent May was my handler when I first joined SHIELD," she explains. "Fury wouldn't let Clint do it, his clearance wasn't high enough and he hadn't been an agent himself for long enough."

"I was there to make sure Barton hadn't dropped an enemy among us just because she had a pretty face," May says, and Wanda giggles, drawing a smile from Vision. "Though you were the best trainee I ever had, Natasha."

"I preferred handling myself," Natasha retorts, and May shakes her head at her.

Bruce laughs, and as he passes her the weight of close to two years apart crashes in the silence. "Good to see you," she says, and he nods. "How was Australia?"

"Peaceful," he answers shortly. "I'm not sure why I let myself be persuaded to come back."

"Oh, it's not so crazy around here lately," Sam says lightly. "No homicidal robots attacking us in our own home. Just a court case. Practically a walk in the park for us!"

* * *

The file on their case is thick and unwieldy with photographs and evidence as Matt sets it on the table before slowly taking his seat, and Wanda exchanges a nervous glance with Scott across the table as their lawyer clears his throat and inclines his head towards Bruce, the newest addition to the group slowly building their defence, looking oddly out of place after his absence even as an original member of the team. "Doctor Banner," Matt says, making Bruce start. "SHIELD was eager to bring you in on this case because of your previous experiences with Thaddeus Ross. Would you explain the story to me?"

"I was engaged to his daughter back before his heart attack, when he was still in the army," Bruce explains stiffly, and Wanda tilts her head in surprise at her former temporary teammate. Of all of them, he was the one she spent the least time with before he disappeared away in a rogue jet and went silent, and so she's never known him as anyone except the Hulk. "We never had the best of relationships even before my accident and the...the other guy. His experiments led to the Abomination being created and the fight in Harlem, and I've tried to stay off his radar ever since."

"And the daughter?" Matt asks, poking at a bruise that has obviously never healed from the flash of pain across Bruce's eyes when her name is said. "Elizabeth, was it? What happened to her?"

"I don't know what happened to Betty," Bruce says quietly, obviously heartbroken, and no one even speaks. "I know she cut ties with Ross and left her job. When I came back to the States I tried to find her, but she'd vanished. She never tried to reach me, so I left her alone. She's a part of a life I left behind when the accident happened."

Silence holds over the table, and Wanda can't help the awareness of Vision at her side, seeing the momentary sheen of tears in Bruce's eyes at the memory of the love he lost, and shivers at the thought that, with the smallest change to how they handled what happened as a team, she might not be sitting back in the compound with the man she loves. She could've lost him. Hell, if Ross' actions hadn't gone so far into black and white villainy, the team might not have been brought together, and they might never have sought out acquittal. She might never have seen Vision again, spending the rest of her life a criminal and a fugitive.

"I am sorry that Ross shaped your life so tragically, Doctor Banner," Matt says solemnly, and Bruce blinks hard, staring down at the table. "That is why we all want to see him imprisoned for his crimes. To tell the world that Ross has experimented previously, particularly his hand in the creation of the Abomination who so many remember destroying Harlem and leading to the loss of many lives and millions of pounds worth of damages, will help the public begin to believe what we are telling them he has done."

Bruce breathes in, a long steadying breath, and gives a grim sort of smile and a firm nod. Matt falls quiet for a second, clearly thinking, and Vision breaks the silence. "Forgive me, Mr. Murdock, but I don't understand why the public would need to hear Doctor Banner's testimony in order to believe that Ross tortured James Ian and Daisy Johnson, Mr. Ian was telling the press everything he could before he had to step out of the spotlight, and Ms. Johnson's claims have been backed up by the director of SHIELD. I fail to see the correlation between Ross' previous experiments and the torture of innocent Inhumans."

"Well, it's not as if he hasn't been experimenting again, Vision," Bruce says, and it occurs to Wanda that they didn't have time in the excitement of his return to explain everything beyond the briefest facts to him, and that Director Mace must have debriefed him on what Ross is truly being charged for, too late to stop the next words that leave his mouth. "He experimented on you."

This silence is utterly horrified, Natasha's hand at her mouth, Steve's eyes slowly closing against how awful the situation is, Scott bending forward over the table and thudding his head gently but repeatedly against the wood. Wanda is simply numb, unable to even turn her head and look at Vision's face. But she can feel his thoughts, know the shock that ripples through his mind, and the dark mass when the memory of his time under Ross' influence shakes, the mist of forgotten trauma clearing, and her heart breaks for him, the atrocities he is about to remember he committed. "What?" Vision asks, voice less crisp and clear than usual, confused and quiet. "No, I was here. I stayed here. And then I...well, I don't remember."

"Vision, that's what happened, Director Mace told me," Bruce insists, despite the reactions around the table, Tony frantically making hand gestures and faces for him to stop talking. "Ross got himself caught because he held James and Daisy hostage, but he started out experimenting on you when he took you in for psych eval. He turned you into his personal weapon, trying to get everyone to surrender or die. That's how you ended up in Wakanda. Didn't you ever wonder about that?"

"No." Vision is so quiet, his voice barely more than a whisper with his futile protest, and tears prick hotly at Wanda's eyes, and she tries to swallow the lump in her throat because she's cried enough over what happened already, it's not her burden to bear, but her mind reaches for Vision's as naturally as ever and she can see the memories flooding back, and his heart breaking as he remembers everything. "No, I...I couldn't. I..."

He stands and walks out of the room, not in anger, but in utter misery. The door swings softly shut behind him, and Bruce looks shocked and definitely contrite as Natasha rounds on him. "He didn't know, Bruce! He didn't remember! Didn't you catch on to that? Couldn't you, with all your _intelligence_ , notice that he clearly didn't remember what he did? What Ross _made_ him do?!"

She can't sit through the inevitable fight, the pettiness that will allow everyone to temporarily forget about Vision, and she stands and walks out after him. The corridor is empty, no sign of where he's gone, but she knows him better than anyone else in the compound. All of their common areas are empty, only the hum of the dishwasher to indicate any sign of life, and his room is empty.

The autumn wind is whipping across the roof, bringing bronzed leaves from the trees surrounding their estate with it, and he's sitting at the edge, where she used to hide in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep after Sokovia. She approaches him quietly, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself against the chill, and sits silently down beside him, waiting for him to speak first. "Tell me the truth," he says, and his voice is thicker with emotion than she's ever known him, and she swallows hard, unable to find the words. "Please, Wanda. I need you to tell me what I did. What Doctor Banner said...is that true?"

"You know it is, Vizh," she says softly, and he inhales sharply next to her, prompting her to take his hand and squeeze reassuringly. "I was in your head, I saw those memories come back. You weren't supposed to find out this way."

"What happened?" he asks, and she shakes her head. "Please, tell me. I don't know what was real and what was a lie, it's all just a mess in my head."

"Ross came here to take you in for psych eval," Wanda explains slowly, everything Tony told them when he and Rhodey first came to Wakanda. "But instead of the tests Tony and Rhodey had, he took you to his own personal bunker, had you tell him and his team what you could do, and put you through electrical torture until your memory was gone. A little like what HYDRA did to Bucky Barnes. He lied to you, told you your memories had vanished because I had thrown you through a building during the fight in Leipzig. He taught you our names and inflated versions of our crimes, gave you the ideas on how to defeat all of us and sent you back to the compound as a spy. When Tony and Rhodey let it slip that they were pretty sure we were hiding out in Wakanda, you revealed that you were loyal to Ross and tried to kill Tony. Rhodey managed to scare you away, and he and Tony set out to help us. But you got to Wakanda before he could warn us, and you tore through T'Challa's palace to finish the mission Ross gave you - bring us in, or kill us. You...you killed twelve palace guards. That's why Wakandans hated T'Challa for keeping us safe."

Vision looks away from her, closing his eyes against the horrors of what Ross made him do, and she doesn't want to continue the story. But she has to, everything has to be out in the open, and so she simply winds her fingers tighter between his and says, "We were all hurt in the fight. Scott had a bruised spine, Natasha a sprained ankle, Clint dislocated his shoulder and Steve had his nose broken. But I planted fears in your mind - I hated doing it - and you left us alone. We can only presume that Ross had you tracking down Inhumans while we were in Wakanda preparing to fight you again, with Tony and Rhodey along for the showdown. When you returned, it was only me, Clint, Tony and Sam who fought you. I made them leave after Sam came close to falling, and faced you myself. Although you did overpower me, I managed to bring your memories back with my own. After that, you were unconscious, and we took you back to the palace. And you know what happened from there."

He doesn't respond for a moment, then he looks at her, eyes falling to her mouth. "When I woke up in Wakanda, you...you had a bruise, and that split in your lip," he says, and she nods, the air seeming charged, her heart lifting slightly with hope despite the circumstances. "You told me that it happened in training. But that's not true, is it? It was me."

She can't deny it, glancing down to break their eye contact out of shame, and he snatches his hand out of hers. "You lied to me. You all hid this from me, all this time. I killed people, and you didn't tell me. I tried to kill all of you, and you didn't tell me. Why didn't you just tell me, Wanda?"

The break in his voice makes her look up, and she's stunned to see that he's crying, the first time she's ever seen him succumb so completely to emotion. He's always been her shoulder to cry on, and with the roles reversed she doesn't know what to do. His eyes meet hers, and he repeats, "Why didn't you _tell_ me?" with a new edge to his voice, one she doesn't like, that has her at a loss for words. When she can't answer, he walks away from her, and she has to follow him again, hurrying after his footsteps. She can't leave him alone when he's hurting, he's never had to deal with something like this before, always the support for her. She has to return the favour.

"Vizh, I'm sorry!" she calls after his rapidly vanishing back. "I don't know what to say except to tell you everything!"

"Leave me alone!" he snaps back over his shoulder, and the words sting as much as any injury she's ever sustained.

"What do you want me to say?" she shouts, holding her hands out in a gesture of surrender. "Do you want me to tell you I should've told you earlier? Maybe I should've, but that's not going to change what happened! You wouldn't have dealt with this any better if you'd found out before now!"

"Why didn't you tell me?!" he shouts, turning on his heel and storming back towards her. "I trusted you! All my life, I've trusted you! And you've thrown that back in my face!"

"Maybe I didn't know how!" she shouts, and even though she's perfectly aware that everyone will be able to hear them fighting the adrenaline is making her heart beat faster and the anger surge red-hot through her words. "Maybe I couldn't tell you! Nobody wants to tell their best friend that he murdered twelve people and hurt his own team under someone else's orders!"

"It would've been nice to know why Scott was scared of me and everyone was acting so strangely with me, instead of you concocting elaborate lies!" Vision is even closer to her now, his eyes flashing with the kind of anger she's only seen in battle, and yet different. More out of control - she wants to call it more human. "You didn't tell me because you were afraid of hurting your friend? If we were as close as you say, you would've understood that it would hurt me to find out from someone else! You were selfish!"

"So what if I was selfish?!" she screams. "I'm human!"

"So am I!" Hearing him say that makes her stand still, the next yell dying in her throat, and they're standing incredibly close to each other, both breathing heavily from the fight. Vision backs off first, his voice breaking with emotion again as he says, "I'm human, Wanda. And what I did...it breaks my heart. I can't stand that I did that. I murdered people with lives and families. I hurt my friends. I hurt _you_. And I...I can't stand it."

He moves first, his hands at her elbows and jerking her into a bruising kiss, her eyes widening in shock and almost instantly falling closed, the breath rushing out of her. Her arms reach up to wind around his neck seemingly without prompting, pulling them closer together, and her mind is running a mile a minute, trying to process every moment of what she's been waiting so long for.

Far too quickly, he pushes her away, and she stands in silence, watching every miniscule change in his expression. "I'm sorry," he finally says, and makes to turn away form her.

But she darts forward and puts her arms around him again, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Don't," she says, softly but insistently. "Don't apologise." She stretches up to kiss him again, softer this time, and his arms wrap around her, his hands coming to rest at the small of her back, and it seems that they've found a short moment of contentment.

A throat being loudly and pointedly cleared shocks them out of their embrace, and Wanda flushes when she sees Scott standing watching them, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth and a wicked gleam in his eyes. "My apologies," he says, every word drawn out and teasing. "I didn't realise I'd be interrupting something. Matt sent me to get you. Ross' lawyer called. His trial starts in two weeks."

And just like that, reality sets back in with a brutal bump.

 


	8. backs to the walls

**A/N:** Happy New Year to all my wonderful readers! Once again I have to place a disclaimer on this chapter and the next few - all I know of the US legal system is from some googling and the media, so I apologise for any utter inaccuracies. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter, as we are coming to the end of our journey! After this, there will be two more chapters and an epilogue, and I hope you all enjoy every minute of reading as much as I've enjoyed every minute of writing :)

* * *

 

"Today is the day. Before the sun even starts to rise, former Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross is being escorted from his jail cell to the courthouse where he will face Justice Wilkes and the Avengers' representing lawyer, Matthew Murdock. Facing charges of kidnap, torture and attempted murder, Mr. Ross has maintained silence since his arrest, but his lawyer Stuart Anstieg had this to say-"

" _My client is innocent. The Avengers hide their mistakes behind accusing an honourable man of heinous crimes, and Director Mace has allowed his personal interests to guide SHIELD in supporting this mistake. Rest assured, I believe this great state will not allow such a grievous miscarriage of justice."_

"Reports say that people have been outside the courthouse overnight, hoping to catch a glimpse of the players in one of the most widely-publicised and hotly-debated trials in years. In a statement to press last night, President Ellis stated that he cannot ignore the strength of the accusations against his former Secretary of State, but will remain neutral in the case until infallible evidence is brought forward. Director Mace of SHIELD has maintained his strong stance in support of the Avengers and their associates, and has been seen escorting Agent Daisy Johnson and James Ian, both of whom lent their accusations to the fight against Mr. Ross, to the courthouse. As for the Avengers, they have maintained silence on all fronts, and their true feelings, it seems, will not be known until they arrive at the trial. This is Michael Aranda for CBS New York, it's half past five."

Setting his lukewarm cup of coffee down, Matt runs a finger over the soft silk of his tie, checking that the knot is as neat as he imagines it. It was a gift, presented to him last night as he was leaving the Avengers compound and encouraging them to sleep, Ms. Romanoff pressing the box into his hands and softly saying, "It's a tie. Pure silk. Red to match your glasses. I know it's nowhere near what we owe you, but it's something."

Now he presses his palm into the firm knot, hard enough that it presses a little too hard against the scabs and bruised, swollen flesh, a short spike of sharp pain. Working on the case has occupied his mind, but the injustices of his city don't stop. Hearing Anstieg defend Ross brings the red haze of anger over him, and somehow punching petty henchmen stealing jewellery makes it a little easier to act the genteel lawyer during his meetings.

" _Foggy. Foggy. Foggy."_ The counter quivers beneath his hands with his phone ringing, the buzzing harsh in the early morning quiet, and he hesitates before reaching for it, hitting the button to answer and lifting the phone to his ear. "Matthew Murdock."

"What, you deleted my number?" The voice of his oldest friend is familiar in the strangeness his world has turned to, ever since Maria Hill came to his door asking for his help, and the twitch of a slight smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

"We dissolved our practice and you took another job," Matt says, polite and cool, not betraying his feelings. It's the Catholicism.

"Doesn't mean we stopped being friends, but you never called," Foggy says, sharper. "I thought you'd tell me you're working with the Avengers. What, you bump into them with your horns on? Didn't see you on TV at that airport."

"No, no, they came to me," Matt explains. He probably owes his friend that much. "SHIELD sent a representative. Said they'd seen me in action, wanted me to help the Avengers against Ross. So that's what I'm doing. Making the world a better place."

"But against _Thaddeus Ross_ , Matt!" Foggy almost sounds afraid now, a hitch to his breath that could almost suggest sadness. "You lose this, your career is over. You'll be packing bags the rest of your life. And they all go to...well, I don't know what happens to superheroes when everyone rules they falsely accused a politician of stuff like this."

Matt is silent. He can't refute the truth of Foggy's words, nor can he blithely insist that he's going to win. What he told the Avengers on his first day as their lawyer is still painfully true - Ross holds the advantage. All they can do is hope, and all he can do is try. "Did you call to give me legal advice, Foggy? Last minute tips?"

"No, I..." Foggy breathes out, hard, and says in a rush, "I called to wish you luck. I want you to win. I'll be listening to the radio all day. The whole office is."

For some reason, sadness overwhelms Matt momentarily, and he clutches the phone a little tighter. "Thank you, Foggy. I hope I don't let you down."

"You won't." Now Foggy's voice is thick, and it sounds like he's crying. "For what it's worth, you're one of the best damn avocadoes I've ever met. Now go be a hero without needing that ridiculous costume."

* * *

Craning backwards to finish pulling up the zip on her dress - long-sleeved and high-necked, sophisticated black, simple design, last worn for Pietro's memorial after Sokovia - Wanda calls out, "Come in," at the soft knock on her door as she reaches for another pin for her hair, the can of hairspray already standing ready.

Vision near takes her breath away when he opens the door, ready for court in all black, solemn expression splitting into a soft smile when he sees her. "You look beautiful," he says softly, and she ducks her head bashfully, a flush spilling over her cheeks. Sliding the final pin into her hair, smoothing stray hairs gently down, she finishes it with a spray, acutely aware of Vision watching her, making her heart beat faster simply with his presence.

She turns away from the mirror into his arms, raising her head to kiss him softly, his hands cupping her face in that gentle way that makes her breath stutter. "The car will be here soon," he says, and she leans into him and tries not to think about the turn the day is about to take. "Mr. Fury has been on the line for an hour, speaking to each of us individually. He wants to speak with you."

In the common area, everyone is silent and solemn, dressed in varying shades of dark colours with matching shadows of sleepless nights beneath their eyes, and Sam wordlessly holds the phone out to her. "Good morning," she says quietly, turning away from her friends.

"Ms. Maximoff, good morning," Fury says, and she can hear the buzz of an office in the background of the call. She'd heard that he was planning on spending the day in the SHIELD offices, listening to the coverage along with so many others. "I understand that you have a greater emotional investment in this case than many, now that you have sealed the deal with Vision."

"Yes, you could say that I do," she hisses, flustered at the thought that Maria would've told Fury about her and Vision. Not that there's much to tell beyond kisses and acting a touch more affectionately with each other. "But you didn't call me to give me relationship advice, Fury."

He chuckles, and says, "No, I did not. Be careful, Ms. Maximoff. This business of ours is lethal to relationships. The only way to really maintain a closeness is working together, and that comes with constant risk. I just worry about how this case is going to affect you. It's not going to be all over in one day."

"I'll be fine," Wanda says, almost snaps, hackles raised. "I'm a lot stronger than you give me credit for. I hope you enjoy listening to the updates."

Annoyingly enough, Fury doesn't seem at all phased by her sniping at him. Instead, he says in his usual cool manner, "And good luck in court today, Ms. Maximoff. Put Captain Rogers back on the line."

Handing the phone back to Steve, Wanda moves towards Clint, Scott and Natasha, standing together and talking in low voices. Even as she quietly approaches Clint extends an arm to wrap around her shoulders, smiling at her despite his obvious exhaustion and the dull resignation in his eyes. "How'd you sleep, kid?" he asks, trying to inject some semblance of normality into the day.

"You look great," Scott says bracingly, giving her a grin so tense it's better called a grimace, and Wanda suppresses a small smile at Natasha's expression. "You'll knock that jury dead."

FRIDAY's voice comes over the speakers loud and sudden enough to make them all start. "Maria Hill has just brought the car through the gates, boss. And I received a message from King T'Challa wishing you all luck and ensuring you he will be listening."

The silence that fills the room at the words is oppressive, the weight of what is about to happen crushing, but Tony stands up straight, adjusts the knot of his tie and says, "Alright, team. I guess it's go time."

In the rush of everyone scrambling to check they have money and identification, Wanda moves to Vision's side and pulls him back from the rush of so many of them leaving from one door, heading towards the car Maria is standing over, solemn as a statue. "No matter what happens, remember you are a good man," she says softly, and her heart skips a beat as she watches the smile grow on his face, and he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer.

"If that's how you see me, then perhaps it's true," he says, and she smiles into their kiss.

"Hey!" Breaking away from Vision, Wanda returns the smile Tony is giving them without embarrassment. It's not as if everyone isn't aware that her and Vision's friendship has moved into romance, with the close quarters of the compound and the happiness she can't help letting show. "C'mon, lovebirds, get in the car. There'll be plenty of time for that when this goddamn trial is over."

Vision keeps her hand in his as they follow Tony outside, and Natasha smiles and shifts to the side so they can sit together in the heavily-armoured SHIELD car. "Before we leave, Director Mace has already called to report that there are a lot of press and civilians outside the courthouse, and the police are only able to do so much to keep them at bay," Maria says, and Tony huffs in irritation. "He managed to get James and Daisy inside without too much shouting, but you are the former Avengers. Don't talk to anyone, just ignore them. And I want you all to turn your phones in to me when we get to the courthouse. Looking at the news coverage and social media reaction will stress you out more."

"I don't see how one more day of social media could stress me out more after months of this shit," Clint remarks, and Maria reluctantly gives into a small smile.

"Murdock needs you level-headed, or Anstieg will pick you all apart in cross-examination," she says firmly. "James and Daisy have been placed in a back room with several of SHIELD's best current agents watching over them, and Director Mace is personally escorting Helen Cho from her hotel room. Murdock is meeting us at the courthouse and he will give you one last pep talk before this shitshow starts."

The closer the courthouse gets, the faster Wanda's heart beats, and the tighter she grips Vision's hand. He holds hers just as tightly, a sure sign that he's far more scared than he's letting on, despite the relatively light conversation he's having with Scott, something about the upcoming holiday season and appropriate gifts for everyone in Scott's life. As the car pulls smoothly to a stop, Maria steps out first, opening an enormous black umbrella against the flashing cameras and hurrying up the stairs and through the doors before any of them can blink.

Bulbs flash from every side the moment they start to move away from the car, and despite being shielded by Vision on one side and Clint on the other, Wanda is still distracted by reporters crying out her name, asking questions she wishes she had answers to. Tony blocks out the voices with apparent ease, and she wishes she couldn't hear the people questioning their motivations, calling them liars, accusing them of fabricating the entire case to cover up for their mistakes.

All of them are subjected to searches inside, as if anyone thought that they would even attempt to smuggle weapons into the courthouse with their reputations already in the gutter. Being separated from Vision even for inspection awakes a terrible anxiety that Wanda has kept firmly suppressed for the last two weeks about the possibility, however vague, of losing him in this trial. Thankfully, Matt is waiting for them in a corridor that is, thankfully, relatively empty. It is still only half past seven in the morning, after all. He looks the same as ever, dark suit, perfectly knotted tie and neatly-combed hair, and the note of familiarity is soothing during a day that will determine so much of their future.

" _Has_ anyone looked at social media this morning?" Clint asks, staring straight down at his phone screen and aggressively hitting buttons, no doubt responding to another inflammatory message.

"Why should we?" Steve snaps. "Bunch of idiots calling us liars and criminals. Telling us it would've been better if we'd ripped each other apart."

"Someone let me know that there's an underground hashtag movement wishing us luck," Clint says, smiling a little, and flashes his phone screen around the knot of their group. "Just thought we could use the reminder that people believe what we're saying."

"Of course they do," Matt says soothingly. "Now, we should talk about the process of the trial. This will not be over in one day. Testimonies and cross-examination will take time. Anstieg will present his witnesses first, and you will all take the stand afterwards. Remember this is what we've been practicing for this last month, but don't get hung up on saying exactly what you all told me. Relax. Remember what Ross has done, but keep your emotions under control as far as you can. Anstieg is notorious for antagonising witnesses, even in ways so subtle they go largely unnoticed. Don't let him make you angry."

"Easier said than done," Natasha observes lightly, and Matt smiles slightly.

"It might be so, Ms. Romanoff, but it's a necessary evil," he says. "And remember basic courtesy of the courtroom - no talking, no unnecessarily distracting gestures, and no food or drink. Judge Wilkes will call recesses throughout the day. There will be reporters and members of the public watching the trial, but don't let them distract you. Don't antagonise any members of the press. Remember to look at the judge or the lawyer questioning you when answering, no one else. And, of course, the most important thing when testifying is to be yourself."

"Eloquently said, Mr. Murdock," comes the voice heard only over the phone before now, and they all look up to Director Mace walking to join them, accompanied by an obviously nervous but steady Helen Cho, who glances down at Wanda and Vision's linked hands and gives her a sweet, secretive smile. "Good morning to you all."

"Director Mace," Steve says, casting suspicious eyes on the man who has helped to shape their case despite never having met them. "It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"Likewise, Captain Rogers," Mace says with a charming smile. "I've heard a lot about all of you. Plenty of people within my organisation are vouching for you."

"What can we help you with, Director?" Steve asks, an edge to his voice that Mace might not have noticed, as he continues blandly smiling.

"I came only to wish you luck, and to assure you that I and SHIELD stand behind you," Mace says firmly. "Ross is a criminal who tried to kill Earth's mightiest heroes and subjected people to horrific torture. The world needs to see who he really is."

"All media requests for your comments are being channeled through Director Mace," Maria says, the light gleaming off the silver SHIELD logo on her badge. "Any that are legitimate and from unbiased and trustworthy sources will be presented to you in the first recess to consider."

"I have a team here specifically to protect you from the press," Director Mace adds. "Now, if you will all come with me, Agent Johnson and Mr. Ian would like to speak with you before we take our seats in the courtroom."

* * *

Pressed back against the wall in silence, Daisy only opens her eyes to glare at James, tapping his fingers against the bench and tapping a heel against the floor. "Could you stop that, please, before you drive us both nuts," she snaps, and he stops abruptly.

"I'm nervous," he says, as if it wasn't already obvious. "I've never been in court before."

"I'm astounded," she says. "You've always seemed like such a great law-abiding citizen."

"You know what I mean!" He slumps back against the wall, and for a second there's a flicker of fear in his eyes. "What if I screw up the case? I've got previous. They could use that to act like nothing I say is true."

"C'mon, James, of everyone who's testifying for our side we have the best chance of proving that Ross tortured us!" she insists, but he still looks at her hollowly, with his hair unruly where he's been running nervous fingers through it since Director Mace picked them up from their hotel room for breakfast, and she sighs heavily before moving across the room to sit with him. "I promise, you will not screw up the case. Murdock's been preparing for testifying all the time. Come on, repeat what you have to say back to me."

James swallows thickly, clears his throat, and says, "My name is James Andrew Ian. I'm an Inhuman who can cause things to explode by touching them. On approximately the 25th of July, I was in an abandoned home I had turned into a safe house just outside of Oberlin, Ohio when Vision appeared at my door and told me I had to go with him under orders of Thaddeus Ross. When I said no, he took me in by force."

"See?" He looks up at her, and she smiles reassuringly. "It's not so difficult. The hardest part is gonna be not going off when Ross gets on the stand and lies his way through that not guilty plea."

She jerks away from him when the door swings opens, admitting Director Mace with the entire line-up of the group formerly known as the Avengers behind him. Daisy can't help but feel just a little starstruck, and smiles for a moment at the thought of how jealous her team will be that she was in the same room as so many heroes. "We heard you wanted to talk," Captain Rogers says with a slight smile, and takes the seat opposite them. "How are you two holding up?"

"Not bad," Daisy admits. "We have a really nice hotel room." There's a soft murmur of laughter, and there's a definite thrill to making the _Avengers_ laugh.

"Agent Johnson?" She looks up at the new voice, and can't help the shiver of fear when she looks up into familiar eyes, admittedly without the same hard ice to them, but still taking her back to running through the LA streets from a weapon of the government she couldn't outrun, a hand twisting her arm back until she screamed, being gagged and drugged and thrown into a prison cell. Vision moves towards her, and it takes every ounce of willpower she has not to cringe away, forcing herself to return his gaze. "I want you to know - and you, Mr. Ian - that I am so sorry for what I did to you. To both of you, and to the others Ross had me hunt down. I wasn't in my right mind, but I know that my actions allowed Ross to torture you into betraying others like you, and to keep you locked up. And I am truly sorry."

James doesn't speak, and when Daisy glances at him he's looking firmly at his shoes. So it falls to her to take a deep breath and say, "It's not your fault. You didn't know what you were doing. Mind control happens to the best of us."

"You can say that again!" Agent Barton says with a grin, and Agent Romanoff rolls her eyes and takes him out of the room by what looks like a painfully tight grip on his shoulder.

The group drifts away, and Vision leaves last, sparing a small smile for Daisy that she tries to return. Maximoff smiles at them too, standing firmly at Vision's side, and as the door swings shut she sees them move closer. Kissing distance.

Apparently, James sees it too, because he lets out a low whistle and says, "Shit, didn't know that was going on. Reporters are gonna have a field day with that. Love in time of the Sokovia Accords."

"Jesus Christ, James, I think the press will be a little more concerned with the former Secretary of State being on trial for kidnapping, torture and attempted murder than the fact that two superheroes happen to have developed feelings for each other during all this," she says, and James smirks.

"Twenty bucks says you're wrong."

She rolls her eyes, sighs, and says, "Fine, I'll take that bet. Now stay still, your tie needs fixing. Who taught you how to tie ties, Jesus."

* * *

Seeing Ross' lawyer at the front of the room, greying dark hair slicked back and wearing a suit that reeks of overspending, Rhodey scrawls _He hasn't even opened his mouth and I hate him_ on the pad in his lap and passes it to Scott, who barely conceals his snort in a transparently fake cough. Maria twists in her seat to give them a pointed look, and they both look suitably contrite for a second before exchanging smirks.

"All rise for Justice Wilkes," comes the dull announcement, and Rhodey straightens up in his wheelchair as everyone around him stands, watching the woman in her long robes ascend to the bench. Silence falls instantly over the courtroom, only the scratching of pens on the notepads of the reporters filling out the seats echoing through the room, and Rhodey looks forward at Tony, Vision and Matt sitting at the front of the room as Anstieg stands for his opening statement, looking just as two-faced and oily as his client.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what has brought us all together today is one of the greatest miscarriages of justice this great nation has ever faced. Thaddeus Ross is a former US Army general, a former beloved Secretary of State, and a humanitarian whose grace and charm have led him steadfastly through every experience of his great life. A driving force behind the Sokovia Accords, he has only ever sought to help people survive in this world of ours - a world which has grown exponentially more dangerous ever since Tony Stark announced himself as the Iron Man eight years ago. These so-called heroes have risked innocent lives time and time again, leaving a trail of casualties in their wake, and have now accused my client in order to escape facing justice for their crimes. I know that you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, will not allow them to besmirch the reputation of a great man."

Anstieg sits down looking infuriatingly triumphant, and Rhodey glances down their row to see Clint squeezing Wanda's hand a little tighter, a familiar fire in her eyes, and he can't help the surge of pride at seeing his friends and teammates so infuriated over the corruption of their country. Matt stands slowly, walking around his table where Tony sits with his shoulders tensed square, and Rhodey casts his mind to the number of bottles of wine in the cabinet at the compound, wondering exactly how many they'll need to get through the length frustrations of the trial.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are not here today to debate what truly defines a hero," Matt says, his voice soft compared to Anstieg's, but filling the room. "Many consider Thaddeus Ross a hero for his actions as a member of the US Army. Many also consider my clients heroes for the sacrifices they have made in service of the world. But what we are here to do is to determine whether Thaddeus Ross is guilty of the charges facing him. Attempted murder, kidnap and torture are not crimes to be taken lightly. Mr. Anstieg, your client pleads not guilty to all charges. I am here to prove beyond any doubt that this is not the case."

The notebook lands back in Rhodey's lap, and he glances down to see that Scott has written _Shit, he's good. I kinda want to give him a standing ovation already._

 _Save that for when he wins this case for us_ Rhodey scrawls, and is drawn back into the courtroom performance by Anstieg saying, "My first witness, Your Honour. I call Thaddeus Ross to the stand."

Rhodey himself is hard put to conceal his revulsion as Ross steps into the witness box, the very picture of the beaten down hero falsely accused of terrible crimes, his shirt wrinkled in a way that is no doubt deliberate and his eyes cast down and miserable. Down the row, he can see Natasha scowling, Steve's hands curling into fists and the slightest spark of angry scarlet between Wanda's fingers, gone as soon as he notices. "Please state your full name and occupation for the record."

"Thaddeus Edward Ross, currently unemployed."

Anstieg approaches Ross the same way Rhodey has approached prisoners and frightened civilians, a mask of sympathy in place and a softness to his tone as he asks, "Mr. Ross, please tell the court in your own words the events of your arrest on the 19th of August."

"I was at my second home, a smaller and more modest place, where I built my private bunker after the events in Harlem. Two young people, James Ian and Daisy Johnson, had approached me with interest to sign an iteration of the Sokovia Accords and submit themselves for testing of their powers, seeking to help the government after the debacle of the Avengers turning their backs on the United States of America. It was at the moment that a group of SHIELD Agents barged into my home and took me into custody, telling me I was being charged with ten counts of attempted murder, in addition to charges of kidnapping and torture. I was held in a private SHIELD prison for six days before being transferred."

 _What I wouldn't do to punch his smug face in right now_ is written on the pad in Natasha's sharply-angled hand, and Rhodey grits his teeth against the frustration. "Mr. Ross, please explain to the court your relationship to the Vision following the clash of the Avengers at Leipzig and the break-in at the Raft."

"Certainly. I attempted to forge a partnership with the remaining Avengers after Leipzig, but Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes were resistant to me. I believed they were maintaining contact with the fugitives but refused to share this information with their government, implicating them into the crimes of their former teammates. However, the Vision approached me alone and asked to help, so I set him to keeping an eye on Stark and Rhodes for me and reporting if he discovered anything pertaining to the fugitives. It was perhaps a week before he told me that Stark had confirmed the fugitives-"

"For clarification, Mr. Ross, when you refer to the fugitives you're referring to Captain Rogers, Ms. Romanoff, Sergeant Barnes, Mr. Barton, Ms. Maximoff, Mr. Lang and Mr. Wilson, all of whom vanished following the break-in at the Raft?"

"I do. The Vision took it upon himself to visit Wakanda following the clarification and attempt to apprehend the fugitives despite my warning that it was a dangerous mission to undertake. I would consider the Vision a friend and ally, the only one I have among the Avengers."

Another spark of scarlet catches Rhodey's eyes, and he glances at Wanda to see her shaking with barely suppressed fury, Steve putting a soothing arm around her as Matt stands to cross-examine Ross. But he sticks to his false story despite all prodding, as do Anstieg's subsequent witnesses. Most work for Ross, what lawyers would probably call character witnesses, expounding eloquently on all of his humanitarian work and graces, and Anstieg plays on the jury's emotions with family members of victims of the UN bombing and the disaster in Lagos. Though Matt tries, Rhodey doesn't need psychic powers to know that the jury is still firmly swung in Ross' favour.

The end of the day's proceedings are creeping closer when Matt finally gets to call witnesses, and summons Daisy Johnson to the stand. She looks decidedly fragile in the witness box, with a scar lingering over her eyebrow from her ordeal at Ross' hands, and swears in with a strong but shaking voice. "Ms. Johnson, I don't want to remind you of your ordeal, but would you please tell the court, in your own words, what you experienced under Ross' orders?"

"I'd be glad to," Daisy says, lip curling slightly over the words, and she clutches the edge of the box with white-knuckled fingers as she tells the story. "I was hiding out in LA at the time. A lot of Inhumans went into hiding or on the run after the Accords, knowing it would only be a matter of time before we were being hunted. I'd successfully evaded SHIELD for months, so I thought I was in the clear. I was trying to contact a few old friends, planning to leave the US for a while and stay with them until things blew over. But the Vision found me one night, chased me through the city and captured me."

"Ms. Johnson, you say that Vision captured you," Matt says. "Tell me, was the man who captured you the same as the man sitting in front of you today?"

"No," Daisy answers shortly, and Rhodey smiles at the conviction of the response. "He was less of a man who captured me, more of a machine. Or a soldier. I was terrified - drugged, taken prisoner, I fell unconscious. When I woke up, I was handcuffed in a metal chair in some underground bunker, and Thaddeus Ross was asking me questions about SHIELD and Inhumans, asking if I knew where anyone was, who my associates were, what I could tell him. I tried to tell him I wasn't aware of any Inhumans other than my old teammates from SHIELD, and I'd left myself months ago and couldn't tell him where they were, but he wouldn't listen. When my answers weren't to his satisfaction, he tortured me with electric shocks, over and over again, hoping I'd give something away. Then I was locked up in a room I couldn't escape, with James Ian. Every day he'd torture us. Not always with electricity - he had this bodyguard, a man named Emmerson, who'd rough us up. Severely."

Matt hits a button, gives a look, and the screen flashes with a picture of Daisy, presumably immediately after her rescue from Ross' bunker. Rhodey sees a few jury members glancing away, and he can't blame them - the woman in the picture is bruised all over her face, a bloody cut over her eyebrow where Daisy now has only a scar, and she looks utterly hopeless. "Ms. Johnson," Matt says, "is this the picture of you taken shortly after your fellow SHIELD agents rescued you from Thaddeus Ross' bunker?"

"Yes," she says clearly. "You can see how I was tortured. But I didn't say anything. I didn't have anything to say. I'd try to escape, but the walls seemed impenetrable. If SHIELD hadn't rescued us, I suspect James and I would still be there."

Despite the obvious pain in her voice, Anstieg doesn't hesitate to imply that Daisy faked her injuries and fabricated the tale of torture in order to give SHIELD a reason to arrest Ross, even having the audacity to imply that Director Mace was trying to take a driving force behind the Sokovia Accords out of the equation due to being an Inhuman himself. James Ian tells a similar story to Daisy's, but Anstieg rips him apart, calling him a common criminal and leading the jury to the conclusion that both Inhumans collaborated with SHIELD in a secret plot to oust Ross. Then, at long last, Judge Wilkes calls an end to the day's work, leaving the continuation for the next day.

Reporters are still lingering outside, calling out for comments, and Rhodey resists the urge to flip them off as Scott pushes him past the crowds and into the waiting car. Maria waves them off with her phone pressed firmly to her ear, no doubt on the line with SHIELD calling Anstieg any number of disgusting names, and silence holds for only a moment in the car before Scott pipes up, "Can I say it? Ross _fucking sucks_!"

"Anstieg is even worse," Natasha spits, pulling her earrings out with unnecessary ferocity. "Making Ross a martyr, the humanitarian hated by us and SHIELD for an agenda that prioritised accountability. And all those people practically drooling at Ross' feet, and Daisy and James getting their stories ripped apart. As if they were punching themselves in the face and cutting themselves and electrocuting themselves just for a good anti-Ross angle."

"I'll be the first one to say it," Tony says, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I need a stiff drink. Anyone else for that?"

"There's a lot of wine in the cabinet," Steve says, and there's a murmur of approval. "And I've had a bottle of whiskey in my room for months, a fan sent it in not knowing I wouldn't drink the stuff."

"Dibs on the whiskey!" Clint exclaims, and there's a bubble of quiet laughter.

* * *

The speakers are belting out a classic rock song Rhodes chose, and Vision is sitting at the edge of the couch alone, watching the apparent dancing competition between Clint and Scott, loudly egged on by Tony. Six empty wine bottles - three white, two red and one rosé - are standing in a row on the kitchen counter, next the the empty cartons from the Chinese food Sam insisted they stop for on the way back from the courthouse, and the mood of forced fun is hung heavily with despair, after their terrible day in court.

Wanda collapses next to him, cheeks pink from several glasses of wine, and curls up to him. He lets himself take her in, drinking in every detail, from the subtleties of the colours in the plaid pattern on her pyjamas to the exact positioning of the blonde highlights in her hair, free from the intricate style she wore it in from court and flowing freely over her shoulders. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, and she beams up at him.

"You said that this morning," she says, her words a little slurred, and he puts his arm around her and pulls her close, heedless of the room crowded out by their friends. Doctor Banner hunched in the armchair and buried in a thick legal text not ten feet away, Natasha and Steve engrossed in conversation nearby and Sam flicking lazily through the compound's DVD collection for something to take their minds off everything.

"You are always beautiful," he says, and her smile grows, and she presses closer to him, her hand lingering on his thigh in way that stops his breath for a moment. "Dressed formally for court or falling asleep after your wine."

"'M not falling asleep," she says indistinctly, and he laughs softly. "You're always beautiful too. I always thought so. That's how I see you."

She sighs softly, contentment etched over her soft smile, and he lets himself feel at peace for a moment before the worry creeps up. "I will have to testify in court tomorrow," he says, and she rests her head on his chest and looks up at him with a slightly unfocused gaze. "Anstieg has proven himself ruthless. He won't hesitate to rip me apart."

"Don't listen to him," she says firmly. "He's wrong, he's just trying to get money. Daisy and James didn't put themselves through all those terrible things, and you didn't do anything of your own free will. Ross made you. You're a good man. Vizh. You've always been a good man. People are scared of you, but screw 'em! Ross is a bigger monster than any of us ever could be, especially you." She blinks, straightens herself up, and cups her hand over his cheek as she focuses her eyes on his and says, "You'll make that whole courtroom see you as I do."

It seems like so long ago that he said those words to her, and it makes his heart skip a beat for her to say them to him, with such conviction and so much behind her eyes. He leans in first, kissing her for approximately the two hundred and sixty-third time, and she wraps a hand around the back of his hand and pulls him closer, regardless of the company. For a moment, he doesn't have to think. He can just let himself feel his heart beating faster and the heat creeping through his blood at her touch, and hold onto this piece of happiness as long as he can have it.

Until he ends up in prison, or worse, Ross' personal attack dog.


	9. and just for this moment

**A/N:** My most genuine apologies for yet another delay! I keep letting myself get swallowed up by uni, and also had some problems with this chapter since so much had to happen within it. But I hope the length and the events make up for the delay! Hope you guys enjoy this :)

* * *

Murmuring overtakes the courtroom as Bruce leaves the seat next to Helen and walks past a solemn-faced Matt and tensely silent Tony and Vision to swear in and take the stand. "Please state your name for the record."

"Doctor Robert Bruce Banner." He tries not to look nervous to the jury, remembering the given advice and looking directly at Matt as their lawyer approaches, wearing a tie that looks less expensive on this third day of court proceedings. He has sunglasses to hide the dark shadows brought on by sleepless or disturbed nights, unlike Bruce, who can't hide that he read his way voraciously through old court records that could even vaguely relate to their case until his head physically began to nod, then stayed awake for another hour contemplating the horrors of a world in which Ross could convince the jury he is innocent.

"Doctor Banner, you were an original member of the Avengers group and remained an active duty combat member until you retired to Australia," Matt states firmly, and Bruce nods his confirmation of the facts. "You were involved in the Battle of Sokovia, which was the first time the world was introduced to your fellow team member, Vision. How well would you say you know him?"

"We barely met," Bruce answers honestly. After all, he wasn't tracked down and pulled back into the world of power struggles and enhanced people to provide evidence in Vision's favour. "So much of the conflict surrounding Ultron happened very quickly, we took the twins-"

"Doctor, do you refer to the Maximoff twins, one of whom sits in this court and the other who tragically gave his life in the Battle of Sokovia?" Anstieg asks from his seat next to Ross, and Bruce swallows the surge of rage that is all his own and none of the Hulk's.

"We took the Maximoff twins and Vision into our team as a necessity, needing their powers added to our effort to stop Ultron. They made us even more powerful and gave us the edge in Sokovia," he continues. "Vision was a new kind of teammate, but in the brief time I spent with him he seemed focused on what was right - which, at that time, was fighting evil and undoing our mistakes. That's still our focus."

"Follow-up question, Doctor Banner, how well do you know Thaddeus Ross?"

Glancing at Ross brings back too many memories that Bruce has firmly suppressed over his year alone in Australia, and he swallows thickly before he can answer. "I met Thaddeus Ross when I began dating his daughter, and we never really saw eye to eye. No one would've been good enough for her, but apparently I was particularly bad. When we became engaged, Ross accepted it only grudgingly. Eight years ago, my...accident took place, and my mutation settled. I came across Ross in that form, and his soldiers were under orders to fire at will and shoot to kill. In order to try and stop the Hulk, Ross continued my experiments in attempting to replicate the super soldier serum which gave Captain Rogers his powers in the 1940s. He eventually injected a soldier named Emil Blonsky with a sample of my blood, which caused him to mutate into the unstoppable creature the media dubbed the Abomination."

"So what you are saying, Doctor Banner, is that Thaddeus Ross had a hand in the creation of the Abomination, who caused millions of dollars worth of damages in Harlem and left fifty dead and around one hundred and thirty injured during its rampage?" Matt asks, and Bruce can hear the scratching of pens and the anticipation in a hundred sharp intakes of breath.

"Yes."

"Objection!" Anstieg roars, rocketing to his feet. "Insufficient evidence! This is speculation of the worst kind!"

"Exhibit J, reports which contain legible and known accounts of Thaddeus Ross' experiments with injecting Emil Blonsky with varieties of Abraham Erskine's original super soldier serum and the subsequent effects on Blonsky, both physical and mental," Matt says.

"Objection overruled, Mr. Anstieg," Judge Wilkes says coolly. "Please refrain from protesting so readily."

Anstieg looks briefly mutinous before his expression returns to its neutral mask with just a hint of charming, but the murmuring in the court takes almost a minute to quiet completely. Despite Anstieg's best attempts at puncturing a hole in Bruce's story, he remains firm, and Judge Wilkes calls a recess afterwards.

Watching the reporters charging for the phones, scrawling frantically on writing pads and tapping notes on laptops, Bruce starts slightly when Tony taps him on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Good job," he says. "Ross looked so pissed during your testimony. That's one claim he can't turn around and claim we're only doing to take him down."

"Well, I've wanted to one-up him since I overheard him telling Betty she was too good for me the night I wanted to ask his permission to propose to her," Bruce says, and something flashes in Tony's eyes. Something that reminds him uncomfortably of Ultron's creation.

"So I was going to keep this to surprise you, but I guess now is as good a time as any," he says, and pulls a neatly-folded piece of paper from his pocket. "I did a little sleuthing across the World Wide Web last night, when I couldn't sleep. Followed the Betty Ross trail until it went cold, but I did find an Elizabeth Lee studying radiation in a lab in South Africa. According to my knowledge, Karen Lee was the woman who died and left Ross a widower with a twelve year old daughter, so that name caught my attention. I looked into it, and that is the address of the lab she works in. Maybe after this is all over, we get you a plane ticket and we fly you out there. Rekindle the match."

"Tony, I...I don't know what to say to you. This is just so...it's...I..."

"Yeah, yeah, Banner, just take the damn address," Tony says, and presses it insistently into Bruce's hand. "You clearly still have some feelings for her, if the fact that you damn near cried telling Murdock Ross ruined your relationship with her is any indication. I've decided to make it my mission to keep love alive."

"Is that why you pushed so hard for this trial?" Bruce asks, lowering his voice and pointedly glancing at Wanda and Vision, standing apart from the crowd and quietly talking, hands linked and gaze intense enough that he wonders if it would burn to walk between them.

Tony looks at them too, and a strange wistfulness takes over his face. "Well, they're both just kids," he says. "Everyone would agree with me on that. They don't deserve any of this, but it happened, and we've got to fix it. They love each other, and we all know that you've gotta hold onto that in our world."

* * *

A tense hush fills the court as Vision steps up to the stand, today wearing a navy suit that Sam happens to know Wanda once made an offhand remark about when they saw it in a window in downtown Manhattan, and he can feel the anticipation, every reporter leaning forward and perking up to listen. Wanda is visibly shaking next to him, and he folds her hand in his and squeezes tightly, pretending he doesn't notice that her lipstick is smudged and partially gone from the very long kiss she and Vision exchanged before they were called back into the court. Natasha is at Wanda's other side today, and she and Sam exchange a worried glance before their attention is drawn back to the front of the room.

"Vision, please tell the court, in your own words, your experience during the Clash of the Avengers in Leipzig," Matt says.

"Objection!" Anstieg shouts for perhaps the twentieth time since they arrived to the court six hours ago, and Scott is shaking his head in disgust. "Your Honour, we all know the tales of the disaster in Leipzig, do we really have to hear about it again?"

"Your Honour, Mr. Anstieg fails to see that the Clash of the Avengers is pertinent to this case and to Vision's account of Mr. Ross' crimes," Matt says smoothly.

"I'll allow it." Anstieg sits down with plenty of anger smouldering in his eyes, and Sam wonders if they're getting any closer to breaking him, three days in and his, Scott, Natasha, Clint, Tony, Rhodey and Bruce's testimonies done, as well as James and Daisy's on the first day. Perhaps Anstieg will fold first and admit that no amount of money can begin to make the jury think Ross is innocent beyond a reasonable doubt.

"What happened in Leipzig was not supposed to happen as it did," Vision says, and there's the sound of a hastily suppressed snort from somewhere among their group, one Sam suspects came from Clint. "Mr. Stark intended to talk things out calmly with Captain Rogers and his associates, but the fight happened. Afterwards, when Captain Rogers fled the scene with Sergeant Barnes and Mr. Stark was rushing Colonel Rhodes to the nearest hospital, I was left behind with Ms. Romanoff to ensure that Mr. Wilson, Mr. Barton, Mr. Lang and Ms. Maximoff were taken into custody without further risk to the soldiers who came to arrest them. Those four were taken in armed vans to an undisclosed location, which I did not learn was the Raft until I heard the news report on their escape. Ms. Romanoff and myself briefly joined Mr. Stark at the hospital he'd escorted Colonel Rhodes to before the doctors there transferred him back to the care of US doctors, and we returned to the Avengers compound. Ms. Romanoff subsequently left a few days later, and Mr. Stark and I were the only ones remaining. Mr. Ross began approaching us in the following weeks, giving Colonel Rhodes and Mr. Stark psychological evaluations and creating files on their powers, as the Accords had dictated he would do."

"Exhibit K, the psychological evaluation of Anthony Edward Stark, also known as Iron Man," Matt says, and there's a print of black letters so dense they blur. "And, Vision, were you subjected to this same psychological evaluation and interview?"

"I was nervous from the beginning, as Mr. Ross himself came, with bodyguards, to the compound to take me in for evaluation, after merely sending associates alone to take in Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes," Vision says. "I was taken to a bunker, which I recognise as the same bunker where Mr. Ross held Agent Johnson and Mr. Ian prisoner, and was surrounded by armed guards while I told them everything I know of my own powers. Mr. Ross asked me about my personal involvement in the fight in Leipzig, highlighting Colonel Rhodes injuries and questioning why it had happened. I assured him that the distraction had been removed." Wanda twitches next to Sam, lowering her head and biting at her lower lip, and he puts an arm firmly around her. "Ross told me that the next stage of the evaluation was an analysis of my body's material, but what happened was what Agent Johnson and Mr. Ian have described as the electrical torture they were also subjected to."

"I don't wish to distress you, Vision, and if this is too difficult to recount then you can say so," Matt says, and Vision shakes his head, standing straighter in the witness box. "What happened after you were subjected to this torture?"

"When I awoke, Mr. Ross told me that I was in his personal facility, and he had been monitoring me after I sustained traumatic injuries during the fight in Leipzig," Vision answers. "When I inquired as to why I couldn't remember any of this, he told that both the injuries and the memory loss had been caused by Ms. Maximoff collapsing a building on me during the battle - which did not happen. He told me that I was the new soldier of the United States, and tasked me with tracking down seven fugitives, who he named as Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, Mr. Wilson, Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Barton, Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Lang. I spent the night in the facility viewing footage of each of them fighting and learning strategies to overcome them, and was delivered back to the Avengers compound under orders to bring all of them in and, if I could not, take them out."

"What happened subsequently has, of course, been recounted multiple times by fellow victims of this criminal activity, ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Matt says, mercifully. "I have only one more question for you, Vision - how did you escape the control which your teammates have testified you were under?"

"During a second assault on my former teammates where they were hiding in Wakanda, I was confronted only by Mr. Stark, Mr. Wilson, Mr, Barton and Ms. Maximoff," Vision explains, and Sam has to grip Wanda's hand tighter to try and stop her from shaking so hard the bracelets on her wrist are clinking. "By this time, I was beginning to awake from the control, my previous encounter with them having brought buried memories back to the surface. Some part of myself stopped me fighting them with such intense intention to kill, and Ms. Maximoff soon ordered the three men to leave, facing me alone. We struggled, and I was in a position to kill her when she used her powers to restore my memories. I fell unconscious, and when I awoke I was in a hospital bed in the Wakandan medical facility, back to myself and free of any outside control."

"Thank you, Vision," Matt says, and he sounds incredibly genuine, even knowing as they do that he is not the lying snake of a stereotypical lawyer. "I know that this is not an easy experience to recount. No more question, Your Honour."

Anstieg steps forward for the cross-examination, sending a shiver of utter revulsion down Sam's spine, even stronger knowing that he is about to destroy the argument of the one who has arguably suffered the most during this entire ordeal. "Vision, you cannot expect to prove your claims that Mr. Ross tortured you and made you a personal soldier," he says in opening. "Mr. Ross' account of this incident says that you approached him, seeking to help the effort to track down those who escaped the Raft. I suggest that you feigned this tale of torture control to vilify yourself to your teammates and join their cause once they lied their way back into good graces by accusing my client of these terrible-"

"Objection!" Matt shouts. "Leading the witness!"

"Sustained," Judge Wilkes says. "Mr. Anstieg, please refrain from allowing your personal feelings to influence your questioning. Whatever point you have, make it."

"Yes, Your Honour. Vision, other witnesses have stated that you did not immediately remember your actions, and in fact it was Doctor Banner who accidentally informed you of this. Why did you not remember actions such as attacking your former teammates and tracking down Inhumans?"

"I cannot answer that completely, Mr. Anstieg," Vision says, the calmest any of them have been during cross-examination. "I believe I suppressed these memories as they were too traumatic to confront, and the longer no one spoke of them the easier it became to forget them myself. But I am grateful to Doctor Banner for broaching the subject, and to my teammates and friends for not continuing to lie about what happened."

"You don't feel any bitterness that these people you call friends lied to you?" Anstieg asks.

"No," Vision says firmly. "I did at the time, but once I had been given the full explanation I understood perfectly. No one wants to tell their friend of atrocities they committed under someone else's orders. It's human to be a little selfish in these situations. But what is now important is that I know, and that I was not in control of these actions."

"No more questions, Your Honour," Anstieg says, looking faintly disgruntled, and court adjourns.

Under Matt and Maria's strict advice to hide their relationship as much as possible during the trial. Wanda remains at Sam's side as they return to the car, but is in Vision's arms as soon as the door closes behind them, the two of them talking quietly enough that no one else can really hear. Vision does appear disturbed and nervous in the aftermath of testifying, but Wanda curled up to him makes him smile and so they leave them to themselves.

"You're the subject of the tabloids today, Rhodey," Tony comments, flipping through his phone. "Listen: 'Colonel James Rupert Rhodes today stated on the witness stand that he bears no ill will to former Avengers teammate Vision for the injuries he sustained during the Clash of the Avengers.' They've accompanied that with a huge picture. You look pretty dashing. Of course, it is an old photo. At least ten years, I think. _At least_."

"Oh, screw you. Tony," Rhodey says, but he's smiling, and it lightens the atmosphere a little as they all return to the compound for another inevitably restless night.

* * *

" _As we see in the fourth day of the Thaddeus Ross trial proceedings, the world waits with baited breath for the testimonies of former Avengers Wanda Maximoff and Captain Steve Rogers, the final two of the group to speak out against Ross. Given the oft-accounted events of Maximoff breaking the Vision's alleged brainwashing, anticipation to hear her version of events is running high."_

"Turn that off," Tony snaps at Scott, though Wanda barely hears him over the irrepressible humming of her own thoughts, stomach in knots and nervous sweat gathering beneath the seams of her dress. "Wanda?" She looks glassily up at the sound of her name, Tony standing in front of her as perfectly, pristinely put together as always, wearing a placating expression and holding a glass of orange juice out towards her. "C'mon, kiddo, you've gotta eat something. Can't have you collapsing on the stand."

"I'm okay," she insists, though of course she's _not_ , anyone can see that. Linking her fingers tighter around her mug of coffee, she listens to the sounds of life across the compound, waiting once again for their car to arrive. Scott keeps giving her slight sympathetic smiles across the room, such concern in his eyes that her hackles rise a little, thinking of Fury and the way he doubted her strength, practically accusing her of being unable to separate her emotions from the trial.

Matt emerges from the bathroom straightening his tie, glasses firmly in place and hair slicked down, the very picture of a lawyer. But he doesn't smile as Clint presses a coffee mug into his hands, and he takes the stool next to Wanda, head turning towards her in the usual unnerving manner, making her feel as if he can see right into her thoughts. "You need to be careful today," he says. "Anstieg may be an awful person, but he is also an intelligent one. I would be surprised if he doesn't at least suspect that there are mutual feelings between you and Vision, and as such he will try harder to antagonise you. You have to keep yourself composed, no matter how hard it is. Break down on the way home or in a bathroom during a recess, but don't on the stand."

"She's gonna be fine," Clint says bracingly. "A real key witness, confirming everything we've said and offering further insight into the whole brainwashing thing." Glancing down at his watch, his eyes widen and he runs towards the bedrooms, clearly the one who today drew the short straw and has to chivvy everyone else along to be ready when their driver arrives.

Vision emerges from his room with eyes clouded with worry, wrapping his arms around Wanda where she's sitting and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and she clings desperately to the contentment of the moment. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, as he has every morning since their first kiss, and she smiles helplessly, feeling the heat creeping into her cheeks, a blush that is half born of embarrassment and half of pure joy.

"God, you lovebirds are too cute for this compound," Sam says from his corner of the couch, looking up at him with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk curling one corner of his mouth. Wanda just beams at him, basking in their friend's reference to them being a couple, and twines her fingers through Vision's where his hand is resting on her waist, resting her head on his arm and hoping the moment might never end.

Of course, it does, because her happiness rarely lasts. The car arrives, and they all climb into the limo, falling into usual pairs and activities to pass the journey to the courthouse. Expected to testify after she does, Steve is making notes to himself in his sketchbook, but still gives her a tight smile when she catches his eye. Reporters surround the steps of the courthouse, crying out for her comments, and they rush past as usual, ignoring the cries of their names and the flashes of cameras at every side.

Inside the courthouse, quiet before the rush of people into the courtroom, Vision takes her hand tightly and raises his voice to ask, "Mr. Murdock, may I take a brief moment alone with Wanda before proceedings begin for the day?"

"Go ahead," Matt says. "Take all the time you need. Myself or Maria will come and find you when you're needed inside. Captain Rogers, we'll take this time to talk about your testimony."

Vision pulls her into the first empty room they find, and Wanda watches him pacing the room with such a swell of affection in her heart that she nearly blurts out the three words she's been fighting to keep a secret until after the trial, not wanting to admit the strength of her feelings for him, just in case something goes wrong. He takes her hands tightly in his, looking down at her with the kind of concern she recognises from the first time he saved her life in Sokovia in his eyes. "You keep telling our friends that you will be fine during this testimony," he says. "But are you sure? You can admit to not being ready."

"I will be fine, Vizh, you don't need to worry," she assures him softly, pulling him a little closer, wishing they could stay like this forever, sealed off from the world. "If I start to break down at any point, I can just look at you and remember exactly why I'm doing this." She raises her head to brush her lips against his, and he catches her mouth in a deeper kiss, the kind that has her toes curling in the points of her shoes and her arms winding tightly around his neck. Her heart pounds, and her stomach goes liquid with desire, and for the minutes and days and months that they kiss the world falls away and takes everything with it.

If only it could stay this way, just the two of them, a young couple in the throes of first love, though she hasn't admitted it yet and she would never pry into his mind to see if he returns her feelings. But he pulls away first, tips their foreheads together and whispers, "Good luck." Then he releases her hands, following Maria's instructions to hide their relationship to the letter, and walks out first.

She straightens her skirt, breathes deeply to calm her heart and hopes she's not flushed, pushing down the slight twinge of disappointment that he didn't say something else. Then she walks out, head held high, trying to appear as if she's ready for whatever the day may throw at her, and Clint smiles at her, putting an arm around her while they wait.

All too soon, she's in the witness box, looking out at a sea of unfamiliar faces, and trying not to look for too long at Vision, directly in front of her, a slight encouraging smile on his face. Matt has gone from their friend and temporary houseguest to their lawyer, wholly professional, saying, "Please state your full name for the record."

"Wanda Magdalena Maximoff," she says, trying to speak clearly, painfully aware of the Sokovian inflection to her words. Her fingers twitch in her lap, anxious to drum a nervous beat or pick at imaginary loose threads on her clothes, and she hastily winds them together to hide the tremors, sitting up a little straighter.

"Ms. Maximoff, would you please tell the court, in your own words, of the attack which Vision committed against you and your fellow fugitives in Wakanda on approximately the eighteenth of July?"

"We were training, just as we usually were - there wasn't much we could do in hiding, but we could keep our reflexes sharp and learn new things together," she says, hearing the scratching of pens from the many reporters in the room, and fighting to keep her gaze wholly on Matt. "We heard a scream, and T'Challa went to investigate, leaving myself, Natasha, Steve, Sam, Clint and Scott in the palace gym. We didn't expect Vision to walk through the door, and for a moment we thought Tony had sent him to talk to us. But I quickly realised he was not our friend, when he said he was there on Ross' behalf and told us we wouldn't be hurt if we came quietly. Scott was the first to refuse, and Vision threw him across the room, knocking him unconscious. The fight was confusing, it happened so quickly, but I remember that Vision accused me of throwing him through a building and taking away his memories. To protect the team, I used my powers to invade his mind and create an image of his death, which frightened him so much he left the palace and we were able to seek medical treatment."

"And, Ms. Maximoff, please tell the court of the second encounter with Vision while he was still under Ross' influence, the one which ended with, as your teammate's have testified, you succeeding in undoing the brainwashing."

"We had planned what we would do when Vision inevitably returned, and when a Wakandan guard announced he'd be seen at the borders we put that into action. Myself, Clint, Tony and Sam were the assault time, so we left the palace for an unoccupied area of the jungle. Vision confronted us, and we were able to keep him from hurting anyone until he shot out one of Sam's wings. I was able to slow his fall and prevent injury, when I told the other three to go back to the palace and join the rest in our perimeter, as I wanted to confront Vision alone. We struggled, while he taunted me with Ross' words, telling me he was under orders to kill and I should've signed the Accords when I had the chance and been a part of the new world. But I would never have done that. Not without him. And I was able to use an opening to help use my memories to release his from whatever procedure had hidden them in the first place. He recognised me immediately, and fell unconscious before the rest of the team reached him. I stayed with him in the medical suite until he awoke."

Matt nods at her in satisfaction, but her skin still crawls as Anstieg steps forward for the cross-examination, a self-satisfied smile on his lips. "Ms. Maximoff, your teammates have testified that you were vehemently against their original plan of killing the Vision when he returned to confront you," he says, and her stomach clenches with fear, her mind working out the words to tread carefully around his line of questioning. "Why would you argue against this, with no idea that you would be able to restore his memories? It was obviously the best course of action."

"I don't believe in killing unless it truly is the only option," she says. At least that requires no twisting of the truth or omission. "I was part of HYDRA, I saw what terrible things they were willing to do. I couldn't let my team become like that."

"But how could you have any idea that you would be able to restore memories?" Anstieg presses. "Your powers are new to you, and not understood by anyone, including yourself."

"I had faith," she says, fighting not to let the anger free, trying not to snap. "I knew I had to try and help my friend."

"Seems a lot to risk on faith," Anstieg remarks silkily, and she clenches her hands into fists in her lip, pushing away the cold grip of fear that he knows exactly why she did it, that she would've died before letting Ross keep his control on Vision, that she did it all for love. "You could've been killed in that confrontation, Ms. Maximoff. Would it not have been easier to agree to the capture and killing of the Vision?"

"Of course not," she snaps, and winces at the way Anstieg's eyes gleam, knowing he's getting to her. "That is not what the Avengers are about. My teammates only suggested it because they were afraid. Outside of the heat of the moment, they all agreed that we had to try a way to restore Vision's memories."

"That's not what they have been saying," Anstieg observes. "Mr. Barton and Mr. Wilson both testified to truly believing that you would be killed in your confrontation alone with the Vision, saying they only left at your insistence and Mr. Stark backing you up, and only got worry from your other teammates. Most believed you would die at the Vision's hands, Ms. Maximoff, and waited outside the medical suite while he was unconscious for the same reason. If even Captain America," his lip curls over the title, "believed the Vision could not be brought back and would kill you, how can you tell the court that you had more faith?"

"Vision and I are friends, and have been since we joined the Avengers last year," she says, catching Vision's eyes briefly and seeing the warmth in his eyes as he watches her, making her heart a little lighter. "We were new to the superhero business together, our powers are from the same source, and we simply clicked as friends. We supported each other throughout the year we spent on the same team."

"Ms. Maximoff, as you know, your former teammates James Rhodes was injured in the Vision's friendly fire during the fight in Leipzig," Anstieg says, smiling slowly at her, the predator with its prey in sight. "Rumour has it that this dreadful accident was because of you."

"Objection!" Matt exclaims, rapping his knuckles against his desk. "Lack of evidence!"

"Let me rephrase, Your Honour." Anstieg comes closer to her, shark-like smile in place, and asks, "How do you respond to the rumours that have been partly corroborated by the testimonies of your teammates that Colonel Rhodes' injuries occurred due to the fact that the Vision was more concerned with you than with his aim?"

Helpless, Wanda can only respond, "Yes, cross-team loyalties interfered with several people's fighting at the airport. We are friends, many of us have fought together and saved each other's lives, it was hard to just push those relationships away for the sake of a fight none of us expected to happen."

"Ms. Maximoff, isn't it true that the Vision saved your life during the Battle of Sokovia?" Anstieg presses, making her stomach twist into even tighter knots, her heart in her throat and frustrated tears pricking hotly at the corners of her eyes.

"Objection! Relevance?"

"There is a point to this, Your Honour," Anstieg says smoothly, almost before Matt has finished speaking, and now he's so close to Wanda she could count the grey hairs scattered across his hairline, and he's smirking, knowing he has her at the end of his line. "He pulled you from a falling train, you have said as much in interviews, as have all others who took part in that battle. Is that why you ignored almost certain death to return his memories? An eye for an eye?"

"I would have done it no matter who it was that had been brainwashed!" she protests, her voice pitching higher as she tries to swallow the hard lump in her throat, fingers curling into the material of her skirt so tightly her knuckles are white with tension.

"My, my, such loyalty," Anstieg observes silkily. "But I doubt you are being truthful, Ms. Maximoff. If Mr. Stark had been the one to take Mr. Ross' side, you would have stepped aside and allowed your teammates to kill him, wouldn't you? Why did you insist on attempting to restore the Vision's memories? You were the only one to even protest killing - the rest agreed it was the best course of action. Why, Ms. Maximoff? Why risk your own life to save that of someone who isn't even _human_?"

"He is human!" she shouts, all attempts at restraint gone, the tears spilling over when she blinks, whether of frustration or anger or sadness, she doesn't know. Perhaps all three. "I did it because I _love_ him! Don't you understand that? _I love him_!"

The courtroom room is completely silent, the scratching of pens fading away into shock. Matt is standing stock-still at the edge of his table, his protest dying on his lips. Anstieg is smirking, lips curling higher by the second, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. And she manages to drag her gaze up to look at Vision, staring at her with a blank expression of shock, and it's the last straw.

She bursts into tears. Not pretty tears, one single crystalline droplet sliding down her cheek, not disturbing her make-up or making her eyes swell or rimming them with red. Ugly tears, tearing out of her chest in a splintered mess of noise, fat droplets rolling down her cheeks stained with black as her eye make-up is washed away, her entire body heaving with the force of every sob.

Tony is out of his chair like a shot, the courtroom stunned into stillness as he rounds the corner of the witness box and wraps his own blazer over her shuddering shoulders. "Call a damn recess," he snaps at Judge Wilkes, who does as she is told with a stunned expression seemingly stuck on her face.

Reporters rush out of the room, the sound of a hundred voices all trying to get the story to their publications first echoing against the high ceilings, and Tony is at Wanda's side, keeping her on the right path as the entire world swims blurrily through her tears, the sound of her name being called over and over again barely registering.

An empty room, the door slamming behind them, and the grinding of chair legs against the wooden floor. She collapses, crumpling in on herself like paper, and Tony is pressing ineffectual tissues into her hands, murmuring soothing nonsense. "I screwed up!" she gasps through her sobs. "I wasn't supposed to lose it, I had to keep it together, I couldn't let him get to me."

"Wanda, Jesus, you're only human," Tony says, pulling up his own chair and sitting opposite her, watching as she scrubs at her wet cheeks, taking half her make-up off with the tearstains. "Anstieg was pushing your buttons a lot harder than he pushed anyone else's, he must've known this whole time and been waiting to spring those questions on you when you weren't expecting it. He's just trying to discredit you. C'mon now, try and stop crying."

"I didn't mean to say it!" she moans through another sob that catches painfully in her chest. "I was trying not to say it until after the trial, just in case! I wrecked it, it was supposed to be a romantic moment, and instead I scream it at a slimy lawyer while I'm under oath and start crying, and did you see the way Vizh was looking at me? He didn't even look happy, he just looked shocked, and not good shocked. I'm such an _idiot_!" Fresh tears burn at her eyes, and Tony leans forward to grasp her by the shoulders, their eyes locking.

"C'mon, kiddo, breathe with me," he says, voice soothing and soft. "Slowly, now, you'll make it worse and end up hyperventilating or choking. In for six, out for six, you can do it. In for six, now out for six, good." She follows him, listening to him counting, and slowly her chest stops heaving and the sobs fade, until she's breathing right again.

"Thank you," she says, voice small and meek, and Tony smiles at her. Curling her knees up to her chest, clutching the bedraggled tissue tightly in one clenched fist, she says, "I want to go home."

"Already called the car," he says soothingly. "I'm coming with you. Everyone else is staying. Steve still has to testify, so does Helen, and I'm leaving Natasha to be in charge of them and stop anyone punching Anstieg. If she can control her urges, she'll do a great job of keeping the rest in check." Not even making to take back his blazer, hanging around her shoulders, he swallows and gently asks, "Do you want to talk to Vision before we leave?"

She can only shake her head, knowing if she speaks the tears will return stronger than before, and he nods in understanding. Outside their tiny sanctuary Steve and Clint are waiting, voices clashing together, but Tony waves them both away. He stays at her side, helping her ignore the calls of her name and shielding her from the flashing cameras, chasing reporters off with short, sharp words, until they're in the car and pulling away.

"It'll be okay," Tony says after long minutes of silence, and she blinks frantically to stave off another bout of tears. "Trust me, Wanda. I know love when I see it, it's all in the eyes. That young man looks at you like you hang the moon."

"Why do people say that?" she asks. "It's a strange phrase."

Tony chuckles softly. "I think it's just a way of expressing what crazy things we'll do for the people we fall in love with. Risking our own lives just to give them a chance to get theirs back, for example." He smiles softly at her, and she gathers just enough strength from her drained heart to give him the shadow of one back.

* * *

The ride back to the compound has never been quieter, silence broken only by the rustling of paper, the buzzing of phones and the occasional cough. Vision can't even bring himself to look up from his lap, not wanting to see the way anyone else in the car will look at him. Matt isn't even accompanying them, gone to an undisclosed location, no doubt to make some attempt at one last hopeless grasp at their victory.

As they draw up in the driveway, everyone scrambles to leave the car, not wanting to extend the silence. The moment they get inside, Scott rushes to turn on the TV, switching to Netflix and clicking on the first thing they can watch. They deliberately all ignore the radio, and throw their phones into a drawer beneath the coffee maker rather than keeping them close by. No one talks. No one even mentions what happened. Sam starts the coffee brewing. Clint pulls out a fresh loaf of bread and mindlessly starts making toast. Steve walks towards the stairs to the gym, a vein ticking at his temple and barely contained anger in his eyes. Natasha collapses on the couch, not speaking a word. Even Rhodes doesn't seem to have the energy to make a joke.

It is hours before Tony emerges from Wanda's room, night thoroughly fallen around the compound. People are sitting around the kitchen half-heartedly eating Sam's pasta dish as he walks in, looking exhausted and frayed at the edges. He's changed out of his suit, and Vision can't help but notice the dark stain of dampness on the shoulder of his grey jumper. Catching Vision's eye, he smiles sadly and comes closer to murmur, "She needs you."

Nodding, Vision stands without grace and lets himself into Wanda's room. The curtains are drawn and half the room disappears into shadows, but he can still see her perfectly. She's curled up on her bed, sniffling softly to herself, changed out of her dress into a baggy shirt and shorts, the way she would usually sleep. Her hair has been let out of the style she pulled it into for court, and her face scrubbed clean of make-up. But he can still see silvery scars of tears on her cheeks, and that her eyes are swollen and rimmed with red, and the corners of her mouth barely turn up in her attempt at a smile.

He sits down next to her, feeling overdressed in the charcoal grey suit and wondering if he should morph his clothes to something a little more casual. She doesn't move, staying with her knees locked up against her chest, and after a long minute of silence he says, "I can leave, if you would prefer it."

She shakes her head slightly, and uncurls a little, shuffling closer. "Tony was quoting when he said I needed you," she says softly, and his heart breaks at the catch in her voice, caused by hours of crying. It used to be that way just after Sokovia, when she would seemingly do nothing but cry until her tears ran dry, and then carry on for hours longer, awful cracked dry sobs. Now it's his fault again, making her cry, her heart bleeding out onto other people's shoulders because he's not there for her like he should be.

"Have you eaten?" he asks. "You should drink some water, you'll be dehydrated. I can get it for you."

Her eyes glisten, a tear slides down her cheek, and she shakes her head. "Why do you have to be so sweet?" she asks through a sob. "Just...just be a _guy_ , and feel all weird about a girl crying."

"You know I care about you, Wanda," he says, not sure what else he can say. "I only want to make you feel better. Anstieg was terrible to you today. It was simply disgraceful, the way he treated you. He should face disciplinary action." Perhaps he should return her words, the three she shouted on the stand, thrown in Anstieg's face like bullets. But when he looks within himself, he's not sure if he can, if he truly believes that he does.

Maybe Anstieg is right in his assumption. Perhaps he is not human. Not fully. It would be human to return those words immediately, to feel a warmth and a joy instead of shock, to feel a little awkward around someone sobbing with such raw grief rather than offering food and water, just because he knows it to be the standard response. It is not human to sit in silence while the object of one's affections cries, not even offering a comforting touch.

His hand lands on her knee, and his heart jumps at the warmth of her bare skin. She looks up at him with her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and moves quick enough to miss with a blink across the gap between them, pressing her lips to his. He can feel the wetness of her tears against his own skin as she presses closer, the movement causing his hand to slide from her knee up her thigh, brushing the hem of her shorts. She kisses him with a quality he hasn't yet experienced to each press of their lips, her nails digging into the back of his neck, and when he moves to wrap his arms around her she arches into him.

" _Please_ ," she breathes, and he understands in that instant, why every kiss feels new and desperate, a plea in every inch of her body.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs, momentary doubt taking hold of him, and she breaks out of the kiss, meeting his eyes.

"I'm sure," she says, and kisses him open-mouthed, pressing closer than seems physically possible. She takes his hand to guide it to the hem of her shirt, beneath it, and he surrenders to human instinct.

* * *

Wondering if he'll be able to finish his latest mug of coffee before it gets cold enough to justify ordering a refill, Matt looks up when the bell over the door jingles merrily, listening to the familiar footfalls and the sound of material against the cheap imitation leather of the booths. "Who would've thought that the Avengers would live just up the road from a diner this shitty?" Jessica comments.

"Careful, Jess, I like to keep the owners of all-night diners happy so I can get away with only ordering coffees while I'm working all night," he says, and he can sense the way she smirks, though he can't truly see her.

"So why are we meeting here, Murdock?" she asks. "Why not up at the compound? I thought you were staying in one of the many spare rooms to make it easier to talk to them at a moment's notice."

"They don't know about my night job," Matt says, and Jessica goes silent across the table. Stretching out his legs, and wondering whether it would be worth it to order another plate of scrambled eggs, he casually continues, "So, remember how you owe me a favour for saving you from those armed robbers you tried to tackle alone?"

"Remember the super-strength thing?" Jessica says, tone simply dripping with sarcasm, and Matt sends up a silent thanks to whatever deity ordained that every all-night diner would be staffed by bored college students who ignore every conversation to dream of sleep. "But sure, let's say I owe you a favour. What of it?"

"I need to cash it in," Matt says. "I need your skills as a PI. Gotta find someone."

"I normally charge highly for my services, Murdock, better be a pretty big ask if I'm giving it out freely," she says. "What's the deal with this?"

"He's an important witness on the case, but he vanished before Ross was arrested and no one's found him yet," Matt says. "I need you to find him by the morning."

"Jesus, Murdock, I'm pretty good but that's pushing it," she says. "Don't you have friends in high places to do that shit for you?"

"They've narrowed it down to this area," Matt says, sliding the scrap of paper he had to plead with Maria for across the table, hearing the rustle as Jessica snatches it up. "He's a former assistant of Ross', and if half a dozen SHIELD operatives show up he'll bolt. One woman no one would recognise won't scare him half as much."

"And how will I get him to come back?" Jessica asks. "Ross is a terrifying dude. I wouldn't want to testify against him in court."

"We need him," Matt says, not trying to keep the quiet desperation out of his voice. "Without him, we're going to lose this case. Ross walks free, and the Avengers go down. Do you want to live in a world where politicians can decide who they want killed and send dehumanised superheroes in to do their dirty work?"

"I've been at the mercy of assholes brainwashing people into doing their dirty work," Jessica says darkly, and he hears her folding the paper and slipping it into her pocket, the creak of her boots as she stands. "Where can I bring him?"

"Round to my place in Hell's Kitchen, I'll be waiting," Matt says, almost pleasant, and picks up his cane, tossing twenty dollars onto the table and beginning to leave.

"Matt?" The use of his first name surprises him enough to stall him, and he turns to the sound of Jessica's face. "The girl. The one who screamed on the witness stand that she loves the Vision. How old is she?"

"Twenty," Matt answers softly, and he hears Jessica suck in a sharp breath. "She's just a kid, Jess. I want to help her."

"Of course you do, you have a saving people complex," she says scathingly, and Matt smiles to himself.

"Don't we all?"

* * *

Vision's hand on her waist is pleasantly cool against her flushed skin, the sweat still drying as she lies beneath the blankets, tracing her fingers over a band of vibranium crossing his chest. Though she doesn't want to disturb the peaceful contentment of the moment, hours of crying have left her head pounding now there's nothing to distract her, and she sits up, Vision following her with concern in her eyes. "I'm just going to get a drink," she says softly, reaching to the end of the bed for her discarded shirt and pulling it down over herself. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm perfect," Vision says, smiling at her sweetly, and she can't resist kissing him once again before she slides out of bed, pulling her shorts up over her hips and picking her way across the room in the dark, opening the door to an eerily silent compound.

A small smile plays at her lips as she walks into the kitchen, retrieving a glass and filling it, dreamily leaning on the counter as she lets the familiar rush of water fade into background noise. Her mind is occupied, reliving every second of the last hour, every touch, every kiss, every sound. A flush rises in her cheeks even though she's alone, and the only one in the compound who can read minds.

"Your drink is overflowing," comes a voice, startling her and making her splash water on herself. Probably a good thing, given how warm she's gotten through her daydreaming. Dabbing at her front, she looks up to see Matt walking through the front door, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses and dark coat protecting him from the chill swirling through the house following the door opening.

"I didn't know you were out," she says quickly, trying to distract him.

"Had some business to take care of," he says casually. "The case is almost closed, after all. Last things to sort out before court tomorrow."

"Of course," she says, taking a quick sip of water to calm her heated face. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm exhausted. Goodnight."

She turns her back before he says, "You know, it's not a bad thing that you said those things on the stand today. People like a good love story. The tabloids are already latching on. 'Love in the time of the Sokovia Accords'."

"That's original," she says lightly. "Thank you for letting me know I didn't completely screw up. Sleep well, Matt."

"You too, Wanda," he says. "And tell Vision good night from me."

She's never been so grateful that their lawyer is blind, as her cheeks instantly flush scarlet, and she darts into her bedroom, downing her water in just a few swallows to try and take the blush out of her face.

Vision is sitting waiting for her, smiling gently when she meets his eyes, and she rolls easily back into his arms, sinking into the slow, easy kiss he initiates. "Will you stay?" she asks softly, and he cradles her against his body, close enough to press their foreheads tenderly together.

"As long as you want," he promises, squeezing her hand. And she falls asleep with his lips against her forehead, her head on his chest and his heartbeat fluttering reassuringly beneath her cheek.


	10. and i'll want nothing else til i die

**A/N:** Apologies as usual for the delay! As we reach the end, I've been drawing the process out. I just don't want to let go of this story! So I truly was intending to have another chapter. An epilogue, so to speak. But I really think I've reached a natural endpoint with this chapter. The characters have taken them in a direction opposing my plan since the beginning, but I like this so much more. Sappy notes at the end!

* * *

As the sky begins to lighten out towards the east, fading into the grey of a misty November morning, Peter is hunting down socks that have found their way beneath every piece of furniture in the cabin, while May wrings her hands and Agent Coulson calmly watches on. "You can't go back!" May insists, her words falling on Peter's ignorant ears as he triumphantly extracts a dust-covered sock from behind the armchair and winds it into a ball with its partner, tossing them over his shoulder into the waiting suitcase. "What if they find Ross not guilty and he sees you in the crowd? You could be next!"

"I assure you, Ms. Parker, no SHIELD operative would let that happen," Coulson says, sitting in the armchair as if he didn't drive at breakneck speeds to reach the cabin after every news network in the country spent the night expounding on their belief that Ross is going to win the trial. "If Peter wants to return to the city and attend the trial today, he should. The Avengers would be happy to see him."

"But it's dangerous!" May snaps. "You brought us here because of Ross, we've spent all this time here so we were out of the way of his schemes, and now he could be about to walk free and you want us to go back to the city?!"

"May!" Peter shouts over her ranting, silencing his aunt, and she turns to look at him, a note of desperation in her gaze. "I can't just stay out here in hiding while Ross is found innocent. If it happens, those people I met are going to be arrested. He could turn any one of them into his personal attack dog."

"Yes, and you rank among that number!" May says, her voice just on the edge of high-pitched hysteria. "Probably higher than most of them, since your superpower is genetic and not built into a suit."

"Ms. Parker, I can promise that your nephew will be protected by the best agents SHIELD has to offer, and I will personally escort him to the courthouse and ensure his safety," Coulson promises, a solid reassurance in his voice. "We can also escort you back to your apartment in Queens, and give you a guard. SHIELD would never let Ross take advantage of your nephew, or any other enhanced individual."

Closing the zip on his suitcase, Peter stands up straight and meets his aunt's eyes, seeing the fear behind her words reflected back at him, tugging at his heart. But he let go of giving in to fear when he first clothed himself in red and blue and crouched atop a building to help protect the people. Instead, he chose to face the cold that seized him when he first reached out his hands to stop a moving car, and he's chosen to face it every day since. "I have to do this, May," he says, and her face falls.

"I know," she says softly. Then she looks up, a hint of a smile pulling at one corner of her mouth, and remarks, "I wish there was some kind of class to teach you how to deal with a loved one becoming a superhero."

"Perhaps that is something SHIELD can look into establishing when this is over," Coulson remarks, and Peter honestly can't tell whether he's joking or not.

* * *

Watching the wind snatching at the bare branches of the trees surrounding the compound, dawn rising on the heavy silence of a sleeping household despite his restless night, Steve lets out a lengthy sigh and reaches for the phone, dialling a number he's spent too much time resisting the urge to call and counting the rings as he waits.

His mind changes with every trill of the line, and he's curling his fingers tighter around the phone, about to pull it away from his ear and hang up and forget this moment of weakness, when there's a click and a sleepy voice says, "Good morning. How can I help?"

"Sharon," he murmurs, and there's a long silence on the other end of the call. He sees her, probably lying in bed after a night of sleep and not a night of tossing and turning like him, and he can't find the words. "How are you doing?"

She laughs, but it's not one of mirth. There's anger to it, and hurt, and, if he listens closely, a wetness that might be tears. "Six months, and that's all you have to say?" she asks, and it's clear she's choosing the anger, letting it flow like fire through her words. "How am I _doing_? I got _fired_."

"I never meant for that to happen," Steve says, another burden of gnawing guilt added to his heart. "None of this was meant to happen. It was supposed to be easy."

"Yeah, well, apparently nothing is easy when your lot get involved," Sharon snaps, such venom in her words, and he winces. He supposes he deserves it. "But I didn't get fired for you. I got fired for helping _Stark_. I got caught giving him what he needed to get your suits back. And I had to come back to the States after my job with SHIELD got blown up and my job with the CIA ended with me fired in disgrace and now I have nowhere to go."

"I'm sure SHIELD would take you back, just like they took Maria," Steve says, a weak attempt at reassurance. "Director Mace is a perfectly decent guy. I don't think you'd hate working for him."

"So here I was, fired, having to hear my parents talk about how they were right and I should never have gotten involved in this world," Sharon continues, as if he's never spoken, "and I hear on the news that the Avengers have been acquitted and have come back to the US to try and get Ross arrested. And I wait. I wait for Stark or Rhodes to call and thank me for sacrificing my job so they could sweep in and help you all save yourselves. I wait for _you_. And nothing!"

"Sharon, I'm sorry," Steve says. It's a lukewarm phrase, but he doesn't know what else to say. He's spent so long apologising over and over again, for everything, and he hasn't even given everyone the words they deserve. "We were so caught up in all of this. It's only gotten worse, we're probably going to lose today and we're all going back to prison, and I just wanted..." The words escape him, and he falls silent.

"Steve," she says, and he's reminded of Peggy, in that tone of half-exasperation and half-warmth, something affectionate. "I know that you're struggling. We all are. The world we live in was ripped apart and there's only so much we can do to put it back together. But you must know that you can't call after months and expect things to be the same. We were...well, we were a heat of the moment thing. Circumstances."

The words sting, but not as much as he might have thought. Truth be told, his first thought was never to call her. That only began recently, seeing the way Wanda and Vision fell instantly together, secret smiles and soft eyes and sweet nothings. Every day back in the US, their lives in the compound coming back together, it's been Bucky on his mind. The phone log will show that, with his calls to Wakanda almost every day, checking in and chasing after news of his oldest friend. "We were doomed from the start, weren't we?" he comments, and she laughs softly.

"Your first love was my aunt," she points out, and he grins into the phone.

"You're very like her," he says. "And I really am sorry, Sharon. But I've been so concerned with the team, and trying to rebuild the relationship, and the trial, and Bucky back in Wakanda."

"And I slipped through the cracks," she finishes for him, and sighs. "Maybe in five years we'll meet again, Rogers. Kick Ross' ass in court today."

He hangs up, and opens the bedroom door to find Tony in the kitchen, brewing coffee and rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Sounded like a serious conversation," he remarks, and Steve just nods at him, opening the cupboard for his muesli. "How is Ms. Carter? Will she be consoling you or celebrating with you tonight?"

"We came to a mutual agreement that what happened between us was a matter of circumstance," Steve says, and Tony grins at him.

"Good. I can only handle giving so much relationship advice at the same time before it starts to get shitty." He raises his cup in a mocking toast, and Steve allows himself a chuckle.

* * *

As the black of the night becomes the grey of approaching dawn beyond the window and the compound slowly comes to life around him, the sounds of the shower running and footsteps and the hum of the coffee machine the symphony of the morning, Vision watches Wanda sleep on. There's a slight flush in her cheeks, her face smooth and peaceful, and the steady rise and fall of her chest is a constant reassurance. He almost hopes she won't awake, won't have to suffer the day they have coming.

Alas, she begins to stir in his arms, and when her eyes open she smiles into his, reaches up to kiss him. This is what couples do, couples who don't have the burdens they do on their shoulders, couples who won't be most likely split up by the end of the day. With that dark thought weighing at the back of his mind, he savours the warmth of her lips and the hand she cups his face with. She seems softer than usual first thing in the morning, without the armour she paints onto herself, shirt wrinkled by sleep and eyes blinking sleepily up at him. "Good morning," she murmurs, smile bright.

"Good morning," he replies, sliding aside to make room for her as she sits up, running a hand through her tangled hair. Every one of her movements has his heart skipping and his breath catching, hyper-aware of her, the night before fresh in his mind. A glance at the clock negates any chance of a repeat performance, and he says, "You ought to shower. The car will be here in forty minutes."

She groans softly, sliding out of bed and to his side, as he morphs himself into a dark suit, the colours of the tie blurring as he tries to decide which best fits the atmosphere of the day. "It's not fair that you can look so handsome just by thinking about it and it takes me an hour to look as good," she says, and he turns to look down at her, the shadows beneath her eyes and the flush in her face and the curve of her mouth.

"You look beautiful right now," he promises, and she beams at him, bouncing onto her tiptoes to kiss him, arms wound around him. She pulls away first, a slight smirk curling one corner of her mouth, and he watches the sway of her hips as she leaves for the bathroom.

The thought of the trial is as effective as a bucket of cold water, and he leaves her room to find everyone else already in the common area, sitting in near-silence. No one speaks, except to offer more coffee or check the time. The knowing of what is about to come keeps the words trapped, keeps them all silent.

Opening his laptop to look at the news offers no solace. Most people have a solid surety that Ross will be found not guilty, many people suggesting placing increasingly ridiculous amounts of money on his win. The articles which follow yesterday's trial say little of Doctor Cho's incredible testimony as Vision's character witness, or of Steve's self-control while on the stand and answering Anstieg's questions without letting anger take over. All of them discuss Wanda losing control of her emotions on the stand, gleefully writing of her hysterics and Tony leaving the proceedings early to be with her, and he slams the laptop shut slightly more violently that necessary.

Wanda emerges from her room as the car is pulling up, hair drawn back and still damp, smiling a secret smile at him, one that speaks of what they shared during the night. Only Clint seems to notice, and gives Vision a raised-eyebrow glance that says more than words ever could.

They hold hands all the way to the courthouse, a desperate bid at grasping a little more time together. After all, there's no need to follow the original orders to hide their relationship anymore, and he never liked that rule in the first place. He wants to be at her side every moment, holding her and able to lean in for a kiss whenever he wishes. The stairs to the courthouse entrance are flooded with reporters, cameras flashing and no doubt capturing the hand he offers to help Wanda out of the car, nor the way he slides his arm around her.

"Ms. Maximoff, Ms. Maximoff! Do you believe your breakdown on the stand yesterday will sway the jury's mind?"

"Ms. Maximoff, Ms. Maximoff! Did you and the Vision concoct this plan in order to appeal to the hearts of the people?"

"Vision! Vision! Do you return Ms. Maximoff's feelings?"

"Vision! Vision! Will you fight to stay with Ms. Maximoff if the government attempts to imprison her once again?"

"That's enough!" comes an authoritative shout, and Director Mace descends the stairs towards them, shielded from the persistent downpour by a dark umbrella, shepherding them in front of him. "Harass these people again, and you will be dealing with my best agents!"

Matt immediately leaves for the courtroom when they get inside, but the rest of them hover in the entryway, no one quite sure of what to say. It's so quiet that someone clearing their throat makes them all turn in an almost synchronised moment, and Tony's mouth drops open when they find Peter Parker waiting behind them, awkward in a suit and staring around at them all. "Um...hi," he finally says, raising a hand in a nervous wave.

"What are you doing here?" Tony asks, his voice a little hoarse. "We were told SHIELD had you in hiding."

"They did, nice little bungalow out in the middle of nowhere," Peter says, scuffing a foot over the floor. "But after I saw the news yesterday I told Aunt May and our agent that I wanted to come back and be in court today. You guys are gonna need someone to stand up and shout if they try to say Ross isn't guilty."

Tony clears his throat, and claps a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Well, you shouldn't have come, but it's good to see you, kid," he says, and Peter shrugs. "You better get inside before reporters grab all the seats."

While everyone files into the courtroom, Peter turns back to look at Vision and Wanda, as he prepares to leave her sitting with Natasha and Clint while he returns to the front of the room and having to feel Ross' presence ten feet away poisoning the air. "So you guys are a couple now?"

"Yes, we are," Wanda says, and Vision smiles to hear the hint of a snap in her voice, daring Peter to say anything derogatory.

But the boy just smiles, and nods approvingly. "That's cool"

"It is," Vision says, and Peter smiles. He presses a kiss to the top of Wanda's head, squeezes her hand and returns to his usual seat as Judge Wilkes enters the room and the proceedings of the trial's final day begin.

* * *

Clint takes Wanda's hand as silence settles over the courtroom, and she's not afraid to admit that she needs the reassuring touch today. Natasha on her other side is a reassuring presence, and her thoughts are turning so quickly she almost doesn't hear Matt saying, "Your Honour, I have one more witness to call to the stand."

"Objection!" Anstieg shouts. "The decision must be made today, Mr. Murdock."

"Closing statements have not begun, and I was unable to locate this witness until last night," Matt says coolly.

"I'll allow it," Judge Wilkes say, and Wanda hopes she didn't imagine the smug smile Matt gives Anstieg before turning to the room at large.

"I'd like to call Hunter Kilborough to the stand," Matt says, and Wanda knows she's not imagining the way Ross' facade of the wronged hero cracks and twitches at the name. If she reached out with her powers, she's sure she'd find something there, and she can see Clint's face furrow into a frown, Rhodey straighten up, Natasha's fingers twitch from their resting spot against her thigh.

It's a young man who walks into the room, eyes darting nervously, in a suit that appears finely-made at first glance but is obviously too big for him. As he swears in and takes a seat on the stand, he pales a shade when he meets Ross' gaze, and Wanda leans forward in interest. "Please state your name and occupation for the record," Matt says, and his voice is soft. Clearly, he knows this witness is obviously liable to jump and run at the first hint of trouble.

"Hunter Christopher Kilborough, and I'm currently unemployed," Hunter says, his foot drumming against the floor in agitation.

"What was your former job, Mr. Kilborough?"

His eyes dart to Ross, but his voice is strong as he says, "I was a key worker for Thaddeus Ross' team dedicated to the movement to identify enhanced persons. My job was to review files and keep a tidy record of everything we knew."

Matt has a file in hand now, and the air is crackling with anticipation, and Wanda can't stop herself from gripping Clint's hand tighter. "Mr. Kilborough, could you please enlighten the court on what this file is? A file you had in your possession when you agreed to speak with me last night."

"It's a file detailing Ross' aims for Operation Titanium. It was a plan he concocted among a committee of myself, his muscle Charles Emmerson and several doctors and scientists in his pocket. It began around the same time as the Sokovia Accords, as we were never convinced we could persuade all of the Avengers to sign them and suspected we would be dealing with a rogue enhanced soon enough."

"And could you explain to the court what the aim of Operation Titanium was, please?"

"The aim of Operation Titanium was the eventuality of having every enhanced in the world either under the jurisdiction of the Accords, locked up in the Raft or dead." The words are delivered so coolly, so matter-of-fact, that it takes a moment for the enormity of the implication to sink in. "Ross hoped to achieve this by getting an enhanced person on our side and using them to hunt down anyone who went rogue, to avoid losing military lives. However, after seeing the effects of HYDRA brainwashing on the Winter Soldier, he was inspired to a similar course of action. After the Clash of the Avengers, he decided that the Vision would make an excellent soldier for the USA."

Someone gasps in the courtroom somewhere, and Wanda wishes she could be at Vision's side, hold him while the world is told exactly how he ended up attempting to kill his friends. "It was a very detailed plan," Kilborough continues, talking in a flat voice, gaze focused entirely on the back of the room. "Ross chose the Vision because he believed him to be far easier to manipulate than Tony Stark or James Rhodes, and we had no idea where the Spiderman Stark had produced at the airport had vanished to. We didn't know much about the Vision, but he was clearly more powerful than most of the others put together. I was there when Ross had Vision brought in. He shocked him for an hour straight, strong shocks that would've killed someone weaker. When it was over, the Vision was a completely different person, a blank slate we could shape into a soldier. I had helped to create the information Ross showed him, twisting the stories to make him think his former teammates were much more dangerous than they really were and had caused him to lose his memory."

"And yet you continued to work for Ross until shortly before his arrest by SHIELD. What happened to change your mind?" There's no judgement in Matt's voice, simply compassion, but Wanda is growing angrier at every word spoken.

"I saw Ross training the Vision, but I was scared that if I left he'd be sent to hunt me too, and I'm not enhanced." Kilborough gives a dry laugh, and says, "The Vision would've killed me if Ross had even breathed it. I'm sure I only managed to stay alive by keeping my mouth shut. It was when Ross had the Vision kidnap James Ian and Daisy Johnson that I couldn't sleep or think of anything except the evil I'd signed myself away to. I couldn't watch him torture people anymore. I sent SHIELD an anonymous message telling them the coordinates of the bunker Ross was keeping them in and left in the night." He looks up, and there's only pain in his eyes. "I'm so sorry to the people who were hurt in this. I lacked the courage to stand up and speak out before it began. And I must thank you, Mr. Murdock, for persuading me to share my story here today."

"A touching testimony, Mr. Kilborough," Anstieg says. "But how do you expect to prove any of this?"

"Clearly, Mr. Anstieg, you've failed to notice that your client clearly recognised me," Kilborough says, and Wanda decides she likes him, noticing Natasha's satisfied smirk. "And I have archive footage with me, that I took from the facility the night I left. With Your Honour's permission, I would like to show it to the court. It is of a sensitive nature, but it's important to see exactly what Ross did to the Vision."

Judge Wilkes nods, and the lights are dimmed. The image that blooms onto the screen is one of a dark room, and Wanda claps a hand to her mouth when she sees Vision handcuffed into a chair, men clothed all in black moving around him. She smiles when the Vision in the video asks, "Is all of this entirely necessary?" but can't help the chill in her spine, willing him to realise what's happening and run even though she's heard him talk of what came next.

But it's still terrible to hear him screaming, to see the triumph in Ross' eyes as Vision writhes in the handcuffs, the sound of the electric shocks making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she finds that her eyes are burning with tears. People are actively looking away, nauseated, and Steve has gone ashen in his seat, sitting bolt-upright and staring straight ahead.

The silence of absolute horror is broken by Ross standing fast enough to send his chair toppling backwards with a crash. "You said you'd destroyed that tape!" he howls, sounding deranged, and Kilborough cringes backwards in his seat. "I'll get for this, you little shit! You signed a confidentiality agreement the day you started working for me! You'll never work again!"

Judge Wilkes can barely make her call for a recess heard over the uproar. Ross is escorted through a side door by security officers, followed by a clearly enraged Anstieg, and Wanda waits just long enough for the room to empty a little before running to Vision. He's very still in his chair, fists tightly clenched, and doesn't look at her until she kneels next to him, cupping her fingers over his tensed forearm and leaning up to press her forehead against his. "I'm so sorry he put you through that," she whispers, her voice thick with suppressed tears.

He meets her eyes then, and takes her hand, relaxing a little. "There was nothing you could do," he says. "No one saw it coming."

"Of course we fucking didn't," Tony snaps, hands shaking as he reaches for his glass of water. "No one would come up with an idea that twisted unless they were crazy."

"Ross was desperate," Matt says, having seen Kilborough into a private room with a SHIELD guard. "Your fight in Leipzig turned the world upside-down and left everyone scrambling for power. He wanted to take back control. It's unfortunate that his best plan was one of such magnitude."

Wanda stays there, crouched at Vision's side, until the recess is over and she must return to her seat. Judge Wilkes calls for closing statements, and Anstieg steps up to the centre of the room, a vein pulsing in his forehead but his eyes clear and his smile shark-like. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this trial has put my client through a terrible emotional trauma, leading him to outbursts of temper. And who can blame him? His reputation has been dragged through the mud, footage of his attempts to understand the powers of enhanced doctored to make him appear cruel, and his own employees turned against him. The group formerly known as the Avengers have ruined Thaddeus Ross' life, as with so many others before him. I urge you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, do not believe the stories of these twisted people who have left nothing but chaos behind them. Allow a national hero to rebuild what others broke."

As Anstieg sits, surely able to feel the waves of hatred rolling from Wanda and everyone sitting around her, Matt stands. As silence falls for him, he removes his sunglasses, and looks around with unseeing eyes, once again making Wanda feel as if he sees far more than he lets on. "Our world is not black and white," he begins. "Heroes and villain can't be determined by the clothes they wear or their laugh. The world we live in is messy. People can walk through life without being anything more than a person. My clients chose to stand up and be heroes, no matter how their enhanced status came about. But they are people, with hearts and minds and feelings. To see that Vision was tortured and twisted to hate his teammates and the people who welcomed him to the world no matter his strangeness is a heartbreaking thing. Thaddeus Ross may have taken actions which have saved millions of lives during his term as Secretary of State, but make no mistake - he is a villain, in the purest sense of the word. He unleashed the Abomination on Harlem and removed himself from the situation to avoid the fallout. He tried to murder people who have laid their lives down multiple times for the people of the world. He turned a hero into his personal soldier - that makes him no better than HYDRA. Please, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, don't let a villain back onto our streets and imprison the heroes who have never distanced themselves from their mistakes. Choose the Avengers. Choose heroes."

The time the jury take to debate in their private room seems endless. Wanda fidgets endlessly, unable to help herself, and Clint keeps her hand in his, squeezing tighter every minute or so, keeping her grounded. She can't help but think that the jury will return and proclaim Ross not guilty, and he will turn to them smiling in triumph, throw them all back into the Raft, and she'll lose Vision forever. Never know what it's like to wake up every morning next to him, never hear him return her words, never know if they might have gotten married or found a way to start a family one day. It's a thought that brings tears to her eyes, and she leans against Clint, hiding her face in his shoulder.

Her heartbeat is so loud as the jury file back into their seats that she can barely hear anything above the blood pounding in her ears and the rattle of her own nervous breathing, feeling the pressure of Clint's hand around her own, Natasha taking her other hand and digging her nails into Wanda's palm. She wills Vision to turn around, look at her one last time, but she knows he won't, maintaining his composure.

"We, the jury-"

Rhodey is sitting bolt-upright, Scott has his eyes closed and lips moving in what must be prayer, Steve is staring a hole into the back of Ross' head. Bruce and Helen are clutching each other, both wide-eyed and waiting. Peter is somewhere in the depths of the courtroom, hidden from Ross' clutches.

"-find the accused, Thaddeus Ross-"

She can't bring herself to look, can barely breathe, her head a maelstrom of dark thoughts and her stomach in knots tight enough to make her feel nauseous. She almost feels light-headed, the world faded at the edges, and tastes blood in her mouth as her teeth break the skin on her lip.

"Guilty."

It takes a moment for the word to sink in, a terrible second of silence. Then, the room explodes into a clamour of noise. Reporters are yelling, people are stamping their feet, Judge Wilkes is banging her gavel in an attempt to gain order and someone is screaming. It takes a moment for Wanda to realise the screaming is her, that Natasha is crying, that Scott has leapt out of his seat and has abandoned all attempts at composure for a victory dance, that Clint's death grip on her hand has been released for him to clap and cheer himself hoarse.

She throws herself out of her seat, pushes through reporters trying to get out of the room and send the story to their publications first, and reaches Vision's side in seconds flat. Tony is grinning, shaking Matt's hand, and she throws herself into Vision's waiting arms, kissing him with everything she has to give him. His arms are around her, crushing her into him, and she can feel the relief pouring off him, knowing that he feared as she did that they wouldn't be seeing the night in together.

They only part when a wolf whistle breaks through the haze of kissing, and she's flushed and her heart is pounding and her legs seem too weak to hold her up. His arms stay around her, lifting her almost off her heels, and Vision is grinning down at her brighter than she's ever seen. "I love you," he says. "I love you with everything I am, Wanda Magdalena Maximoff. No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you."

"That's plainly not true," she gasps, tightening her arms around his neck, heedless of the people around them and the cameras flashing. "Because no one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you."

"Perhaps we must agree to disagree," he says, eyes so bright, and she curls a hand around the back of his neck, bringing their mouths almost to touching.

"Deal," she whispers, and kisses him again.

* * *

The cork flies halfway across the room with an explosive pop before Peter's hand darts out and catches it, grins and winks at Natasha. She dissolves into laughter, and Tony grins as he pours champagne into the waiting glasses and raises his. "I'd like to propose a toast," he says, and everyone raises their glasses accordingly. "To victory!"

"To Ross serving out multiple life sentences in the Raft!" Sam shouts.

"To love," Vision says, smiling at Wanda in his lap, and she blushes and kisses him in a way a little too passionate for polite company.

"To the justice system in this country!" Steve shouts, to rolled eyes and laughter.

"To Matthew Murdock!" Natasha says, and they whoop and raise their glasses to Matt in his corner of the room, still on his first glass of wine.

"To the team!" Scott shouts, flushed from wine and already slightly tipsy, and it doesn't feel like a loaded statement or a chore to raise their glasses and cheer for each other. Perhaps the wounds from the fight haven't healed. Perhaps they never will. Perhaps they'll never feel ready to talk about it all. But perhaps that's okay. And they can still be a team.

Clint stands up on a chair, wobbling slightly, raises his glass high above his head, champagne splashing to the floor, and bellows, "To the Avengers!"

And Tony raises his glass and joins in with the rest of the team, his family, as they shout, "The Avengers!"

The party gets rowdy quickly, with Scott and Clint moving the couches to dance, and the slightly less inebriated migrating to the edges of the room. Tony finds himself sitting with Rhodey, just as they did at the beginning of all this, and Rhodey smiles. "You know, I'm glad Vision tried to kill you that night," he remarks. "If he hadn't, we wouldn't have stolen the suits back from Berlin. And the team would never have gotten over that break-up. And we wouldn't have had a court case to bring us all closer together."

"And I wouldn't have watched Wanda and Vision making out at uncomfortably close range," Tony comments, and Rhodey laughs, a loud laugh born of the beginnings of drunkenness. "You know what, though? As terrible and aging and awful as this whole experience was, it got the team back together. It made us a family again."

"Don't get all sappy on me now, Stark," Rhodey retorts, and Tony bats at his head.

"I saw that tear in your eye when you heard Wanda and Vision talking about love, Rhodes, don't pretend to be the Tin Man now," he says, smirking through every word.

"Okay, but if you start getting up on counters and waxing lyrical about found family after another glass of that stuff, I'm cutting you off," Rhodey says, and turns away to start talking to Helen.

Tony approaches Matt in his corner, looking down at his phone. "A hot date to get away to, Murdock?" he asks, and Matt looks up at him, sunglasses flashing in the light.

"Just looking at the coverage of the trial's conclusion," he answers lightly, and Tony scoffs. "Hunter Kilborough has been taken to a safehouse by SHIELD. I suspect they'll try and employ him if he's willing after what he's just been through. And an old friend of mine wants to meet for drinks and talk, so if you don't mind I'll be leaving after this glass."

Glancing around to ensure that everyone else is occupied, Tony lowers his voice and says, "You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, aren't you?"

Matt is silent for a moment, then says, "You really are as intelligent as they say, Mr. Stark. So, are you going to tell SHIELD?"

"Hell no," Tony says, the idea almost laughable. "You might not have notice yet, but I only trust organisations when it's convenient for me. So I'll be keeping your secret safe. And if you ever feel like bringing your talents onto a bigger stage, don't forget your old friends the Avengers."

Matt chuckles, and says, "I won't." He holds out a hand, and Tony shakes it firmly. "Goodbye, Mr. Stark. Enjoy the rest of your victory party."

"Oh, we will," Tony promises, and helps himself to another glass of champagne. Peter is laughing a little too loud at something Natasha is saying, gazing at her admiringly. Rhodey is openly flirting with Helen, who isn't hating it if her blush and thrilled smile are anything to consider. After a phone call with T'Challa, Steve has loosened up enough to join Clint and Scott's dancing, with a surprisingly decent set of moves. Sam is bellowing along to the song, a can of beer in each hand. And, for some reason, Wanda and Vision have mysteriously vanished from the party.

Smirking into his glass, Tony sits and angles himself so as to see the happy couple attempt to sneak back into the party unnoticed half an hour later, Wanda very flushed and Vision trying to discreetly wipe lipstick from his face. Young love is truly beautiful to behold.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, there we go. The end! Not only is this my first full-length ScarletVision piece, but it is my longest fanfiction piece ever! As you may have noticed, during writing I started to treat this fic like a canon sequel to  _Civil War_ , with all the necessary subplots and tie-ins to the MCU. And I truly hope that is how it felt - something that could've happened in canon. I have loved writing this, despite what the length of time between updates might suggest! I've loved reading your comments and seeing you respond to my cliffhangers and the lines I had in mind while writing. Thank you so much for supporting me throughout this process? And now Wanda and Vision have reached their happy ending in this version of their lives, I have so many more fics half-written with new versions of their love story. Hope to see some of you guys there. And truly, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for enjoying this story. I hope this ending was satisfying!


End file.
